


Strangers

by MeBatty



Series: When It's Over [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Secret Circle (TV), Supernatural, Vampire Diaries (TV), Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Buffy crossover, Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Freeform, BuffyNatural, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Horror, M/M, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Strong Language, Supernatural - Freeform, Supernatural Crossover, Violence, the walking dead - Freeform, twd universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 11:39:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 26,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeBatty/pseuds/MeBatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strangers show up in the survivors lives and bring them a taste of the world before Walkers. A taste that's hard to resist. Rated for language, violence and sexual situations in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Perfume

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimer stuff. This is the first part of at least a two or three chapter fic, and my first ever TWD fic so please pardon my rusty writing! I own nothing, TWD and BtVS do not belong to me. EDIT: This fic is going on way longer than I'd planned, and I already have some simultaneous cross-over stories and a continuation fic planned - what have I gotten myself into? This story is set somewhat out of time - it's after the Walkers in the barn fiasco but AU after that.
> 
> You can keep up with the 'Strangers' fics via tumblr at 'strangers-verse'!

"I'm going to plead the fifth on that one." Andrea laughed, leaning against the crumbling whitewash of the weather beaten wooden banister that lead up to the Greene's front door. She was tired from a night shift on the roof of the RV and sweaty from the badly timed heat wave, but sharing a chuckle all the same in a rare drama-free moment on the farm.

Carol sat in a whicker chair and turned a gray, stained shirt in her hands as she carefully stitched the frayed collar back onto it's shoulders, "I told my ' _Anywhere But Here'_ story, it's not fair if you don't tell yours." She smiled at Andrea and then to Lori who was sitting on the floor near her, cross-legged, with a large silver bowl in her lap.

"True. That's true." Lori teased with a small grin as she snapped another hand full of peas one at a time. She glanced over at Carol mischievously and added, "But _you lied_." With that all three women busted into the heartier laugh they had been controlling until now, thoroughly enjoying each other's company for the first time in ages.

With all of the craziness, it seemed like it had been weeks since these survivors had it in them to look each other in the eye, let alone share a lazy afternoon of girl talk over chores. It was nice, and simple, and it took Carol's mind off of the horror that had been her life for the past few weeks and the following perpetual humdrum that the farm would lull into between Walkers.

Chatting like this had reminded her of their camp outside of Atlanta. Of washing clothes and dishes with the other women, talking about men, books and what life was like before the world ended. It seemed so long ago now, the daily grind turning each hour into two and stretched her memory until their short stay on Hershel's land began to feel like years.

"Well," Carol brought the group back into the moment, finishing up the shirt with a final stitch and cutting the thread with a small pair of haircutting sheers, "I don't think there's anything wrong with wishing for a bath tub with hot running water, just because it isn't filthy." Lori suppressed a chuckle, knowing that barb was meant for her _Anywhere But Here_ which happened to involve Christian Slater and an indoor swimming pool. Carol continued, "I'm not saying I'd take the bait if the Devil offered it to me." She smiled at the others and almost whispered, "But I'm not saying I wouldn't, either."

The women giggled again just as Rick and Daryl pushed through the screen door and onto the porch. Rick nudged sweat from his brow with a knuckle, "I need you to get the truck ready, we have to be fast if we're gonna make it back before dark and I'd like to beat the sun if we can."

Daryl thoughtlessly took the shirt Carol had been mending and gave it a careless shove into his pocket, "Yep." was becoming a familiar response from him when it came to Rick's orders and he casually bumped knuckles with the other man before heading out to his chore. Carol's mouth twisted as she watched him go without so much as his usual nod as a thank you, which gave Andrea and Lori reason to shoot each other a knowing smirk.

Rick leaned in to Lori who was popping a pea pod into her mouth and said, almost confidentially, "We're gonna make a run up to the highway. Search the wrecks for things we can use - bottles, clothes. If you want anything specific I need a list before we head out, okay?"

"I have the list from Wednesday," Lori responded with a nod, "I just want to add some things to it."

Rick responded, leaning against his bent knee, "That's fine. Where's Carl? Might want to see if he needs anything special."

Lori handed the bowl to Andrea and climbed to her feet, dusting her jeans off, "He's in the house, but he made his list out last night." She slipped her hand into the front pocket of her jeans and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper then unfolded it and handed it to her husband, "It's not much, just a pair of socks and some batteries if you can find them." She gave Rick a quick but affectionate kiss and her jeans another brush off, then took the bowl back from Andrea who'd been watching the display and picking at the peas, "I better get these inside."

Rick watched Lori make her exit then turned to the other two, "Any requests? I can't promise we'll find everything you need, but if it's important we'll sure try."

Andrea piped up first, "I can put a some new tank tops to use, if you can find any to spare. It's just getting so hot I don't think sleeves are really optional anymore."

Rick nodded and turned to Carol, who already held a green post-it out to him, "Just a few things, it's alright if you can't find them. Don't put yourself in danger for my vanity."

Carol smiled at Rick, who returned her smile as he took her list and stuck the post-it to his knee. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and added Andrea's request to the list then pocketed both the paper and pen just as Lori slipped back out and put her list in his hand. Rick kissed Lori's cheek then nodded to the women and headed off the way Daryl had earlier, met in the distance by the pick up.

* * *

The sun was already low by the time Daryl turned onto the onramp, Rick in the passenger seat looking over the lists he had been given, "Chapstick, sunscreen, bug spray. I never remember this stuff." He shook his head and mused to Daryl, "This is why God made wives, friend."

Daryl grunted, eyes fixed on the road, "Good head on her shoulders," was all he managed to say as the truck pulled up behind the seemingly abandon pile up where they had lost Sophia weeks earlier, "What else?"

"Socks and batteries for Carl," Rick continued as they both climbed out of the truck and gave the road a quick scan, "He didn't say what kind but I reckon he means for that video game he found on the highway. Tank tops, sandals, a mess kit, perfume and an egg slicer." He seemed confused and slightly amused as he stressed the last item, "Something tells me that one's for Maggie. She's been on about egg salad ever since we brought home that crate of mayonnaise and mustard."

"Perfume?" Daryl took the post-it out of Rick's hand and looked it over in disbelief, "For _who_?"

Rick's door shrieked as he pushed it closed and shoved Lori's list into his shirt pocket, "Carol."

It was too late, Daryl had already recognized Carol's handwriting. He winced at the sky and grunted, "Hell is wrong with that woman? Putting our asses on the line for a fucking _slumber party_ , out here. What's she need perfume for?" He took another look at the list then shook his head and pocketed it as he walked towards the cars without Rick, "Ain't got nowhere to _be_."

"Well." Trying to open the trunk of a Mazda, Rick glanced at Daryl's back with a small, amused smirk, "Maybe Carol wants to get done up for _some reason?"_

"Done up enough as it is. Woman's a walking ass ache," Daryl sneered, shielding his eyes from the sun's glare as he peered through the rolled-up window of a station wagon that looked like it had been broad-sided by Rick's Mazda.

With a shrill whine the trunk of the Mazda opened and Rick started looking through what little was left to pick in back there - some bottled water, a diaper bag and an igloo cooler that swished when he moved it and smelled like someone had tried to bake garbage in it, " _Nothing_?" Rick egged Daryl, unable to hide the knowing smile trying to break on his face as he teased his friend, "No reason at all she might want to gussie up a bit?"

Rick jumped a bit when the station wagon door, which had been holding on by a thread before Daryl tried to open it, hit the ground, "You got somethin' to say?" Daryl asked, a note of warning in his voice that was not lost on Rick.

"No, nothing at all." Rick tried to stifle and pulled a flat of bottled water, still in it's shrink wrap, out of the car. He tried to heft the bottles onto his shoulder when he noticed Daryl, serious and quiet, calmly aiming the crossbow right at him, "Hold on, _hold on_ …"

Rick set the water down in the trunk without moving much from his current spot. He trusted Daryl not to shoot him, especially not over a joke, but he hadn't expected it to go far enough for Rick to find himself in Daryl's sights. Out of habit his hand reached for the gun on his hip and bolt whizzed past his head and lodged itself into the skull of a Walker.


	2. The Visitors

 

 

Flinching, Rick heard the crunch and slush of the Walker's head being destroyed by the arrow and whipped around just in time to see it drop. A small herd had shuffled into the pile up and were making their way towards Rick and Daryl.

Rick swore under his breath as Daryl put another walker down, "Heard the door I guess." he walked passed Rick and took aim at another zombie, "So much for the slumber party."

"Never gonna get used to this." Rick pointed his gun at the nearest Walker and squeezed off a round, sending the corpse into a half spin before it fell into a heap. He looked up to see Daryl stepping on his latest kill's skull for leverage as he pulled out the bolt and wiped it clean on his pants. Rick hollered to him, "There's too many! We have to clear out enough of them to get going, salvage can wait! Can you keep em off me long enough for me to get to the truck? We can try to outrun them?"

Without looking at Rick, or away from the herd, Daryl nodded and started to use his crossbow to clear out a path. As soon as space appeared in the road Rick hi-tailed it for the truck, dodging or shooting the zombies within range while Daryl covered him from the station wagon. He climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door, glancing up to make sure Daryl was still in view.

Rick grabbed for the keys, but his hand met the ignition instead, " _Shhh_ …" He checked his pockets, the dash and the trays before kicking at the floor space, "Shhh…. Shit, _shit_ …" he angrily pounded the steering wheel with his fist and looked up at Daryl again.

When the truck didn't start Daryl hopped up onto the station wagon's hood for a better view of the hoard that was now surrounding the truck. As his feet made contact with the car he heard a jingle on his person and winced. The keys were still in his pocket, " _Sonofabitch_..." He took aim at a blond in a red mini dress that had begun to claw at the truck's passenger door window and took her out.

Daryl sighed and reached back for more ammo only to find a single bolt left and, while Rick couldn't hear him from inside the truck, he could clearly see his friend kicking, swearing and starting up a fit to end all fits. Daryl looked up at the truck and weighed his options.

The vehicle was now surrounded with an ever growing swarm of Walkers all scratching and pulling at the doors. Another swearing fit and Daryl had flipped his crossbow onto his back and hopped off of the car, knife in hand.

Rick reloaded his gun and prepared for the worst. He rolled his window down a few inches to shoot someone's grandmother off of the door, then a teenager in a jogging suit. Using his few moment window, it was his turn to cover Daryl. He leaned out of the car window and took aim and as he did Daryl whistled to him, trying to bring Rick's attention to the little girl shuffling up behind him. A shot rang out that Rick didn't fire, but it certainly got his attention and he looked back to see the child crumple to the ground.

The gunfire didn't just catch Rick and Daryl off guard, but it also managed to get the attention of the Walkers who had been surrounding the car. As if it had been rehearsed both survivors and zombies looked back in unison to see a muddy white van skid to a stop on the road behind them, a petite blond hanging out of the passenger's side window with a custom rifle-like gun.

Some of the herd began to slowly turn towards the intruders, something almost akin to life in their eyes as they made their way to the van. The front doors opened and out bounded the blond and, from the driver's side, an equally tiny brunette woman dressed like a groupie from a Def Leppard concert.

The brunette loudly swung her door closed and jogged after her friend, toting a long bow. She kicked a nearby sports car as hard as she could and the alarm went off, signaling the straggling zombies to abandon Daryl and Rick and join the group headed for the newcomers. She slowly lifted her bow and drew an arrow back, mumbling to herself, "C'mon…"

The blond didn't startle when the alarm went off, indicating this to be a well rehearsed scenario. She took the lead, managing to sprint in platform sandals to place herself halfway between the herd and van. She started shooting, awkwardly but accurately, thinning the monsters out.

She dropped her head for a moment to look down at the gun as she reloaded, trying to remember how to do the job, when her companion yelled for her, "B!" the brunette called, putting an arrow between a Walker's eyes who had been advancing on her friend, "Watch yourself!"

Rick climbed out of the truck as quickly as he could once the zombies were occupied. He checked his ammo and exchanged looks with Daryl, who was busy pulling the last lost bolt out of a corpse not far off. Rick motioned for Daryl to follow him then headed in the same direction as the herd. Daryl followed dutifully and fell into step as Rick began putting down the Walkers closest to him.

Now locked and loaded, the blond stood and hiked the gun into firing position, calling a quick, "Thanks!" back to her friend before firing again. She discharged the spent shells with a grunt and took aim again but the Walker she was aiming at fell to the ground and she found herself with the barrel of her gun right between Daryl's eyes.

Daryl stood his ground for a moment then huffed and reluctantly backed off, putting up his hands, one of which still held the bloody knife he had just pulled out of the last zombie's skull, "Mean to fire that thing?"

"Oh, ehhh, sorry." The woman put her gun down just as the brunette came bouncing over with an unshakeable grin and hi-fived her friend.

"Twelve for twelve, every time." She beamed and the blond rolled her eyes.

Unable to process what just happened, Rick shook his head and extended a grateful hand, "Rick Grimes."

Daryl put his hands down. He took the gun out of the blond's hands and walked over to the still wailing sports car and pulled the door open. He fired a few rounds into the front seat and the car alarm abruptly stopped, "Libel to have every Walker in the county down here."

The woman gave Daryl an odd smirk then shook Rick's hand, "I'm Buffy, this is Faith. Is he… always like this?"

"More or less, but it's never a good idea to make unnecessary noise. Attracts the Walkers." Rick gave Buffy's hand a shake, "Can't say as I'm not happy to meet you, you showed up just in time."

" _Walkers?"_ Faith squinted at Rick even though the sun was near set, "You mean the dead guys?"

"That's right." Rick nodded, hands resting on his hips as he watched Daryl poke around the van, "That's what we call them."

Buffy scrunched her nose and readjusted the clip in her hair to account for a few stray locks that had fallen out of the clip during the fight, "We just stick to 'zombies'. Not as cool, I'll grant you, but what it lacks in originality it makes up for in the lack of conversations like this one where you have to explain what a Walker is."

Faith folded her arms across her stomach and watched Daryl with interest, "What the hell are you doing over there, Little Kid?" The question bought her a dirty look from Daryl and he trudged back to the group.

"Best get a move on, that alarm's gonna bring a mess of em and we're losing that daylight."

Rick nodded at Daryl's advice, "Won't be quiet here for long." he addressed Buffy, "We have a camp not far from here, it's not safe for you to be on the road. We owe you, I don't think Hershel will mind you both sticking it out with our group a night or two."


	3. The Farm

Dale stood up on the roof of the RV when the pickup came rumbling down the dirt road, followed by a white van he'd never seen before. It was dusk and getting harder to see in the din, but he could see Daryl in the truck with Rick and a what looked like a blond child.

With cautious relief, he waved to catch the attention of Lori, who had been wringing her hands on the porch, waiting for Rick to return.

* * *

"Where are you headed?" Rick asked, checking the glove compartment for a map.

Buffy sat between the men, chewing and loudly smacking a giant cube of orange bubble gum. The scent was intense, sweet and artificial. It mixed in the air with the spritz of Clinique's _Happy_ that usually announced Buffy's presence and created a thick candle shop aroma in the confined space of the truck's cab that threatened Daryl with nausea. He cracked a window and Buffy responded, "Hoover Dam area. We have friends there."

"Hoover Dam?" Daryl squinted as they drove towards the house, "Said you're from L.A.? Takin' the long way around, ain'tcha?"

"We tried for the safe zones, first, figuring they would be over run." Buffy explained then looked between the men. Seeing the confusion on their faces she clarified, "See, people migrate to government tent poles even after the bad breaks out there. More people means more zombies. Safe zones are always overrun first, we thought we should swing in and look for survivors."

Daryl crushed out a sarcastic breath and griped to himself, "Information we coulda used six months ago."

"Well, it's a good thing you did." Rick shook his head, unable to burn off the overly grateful expression on his face as he responded to Buffy, "Don't know what we would have done if you three hadn't found us."

* * *

Faith climbed into the front of the van between the seats and plopped down in the passenger's side. She hiked a foot up on the seat and leaned against the door, lighting up a cigarette, "You were a lotta help."

Spike turned the van to match the truck and sneered at Faith, "Yeh, well I couldn't very well join in, could I? Middle of the bloody afternoon. Would've been _so_ much help. Being on **fire** , and all."

"Yeah," Faith laughed. She offered Spike her cigarette and watched the camp gather around the truck as it stopped ahead of them, "Because you're usually so good at handling yourself in a fight? You almost got your leg tore off in Atlanta."

Snort, "No thanks to you." Spike took her up on the offer of a cigarette, leaning to take a long drag while it remained between her fingers, "Might want to warn a man he's live bait _before_ you push him out of the sodding van." He pulled up behind the truck and stopped, "Well, isn't this a fun looking bunch?"

Faith made a dismissive 'pssht' sound as she ground her cigarette out in the dash ash tray and opened the door, "Yeah, they're a party. C'mon."

A nod from Spike and he followed suit, out of the van and at Faith's side as they walked towards the group. Rick climbed out of the truck and offered Buffy his hand which she took with no small amount of surprise.

Almost before Buffy could use the help to hop out of the van, Lori pushed gently through the group until she found Rick and hugged him with relief, "What happened?" was all she could manage to ask.

"Walkers." Daryl piped up, closing the truck door behind him and walking around past the grill to join the others, "Herd showed up outta nowhere, thought we were done."

"They must have come up from the woods, we didn't even see them until they were on us." Rick held on to Lori and motioned to each of the newcomers in turn with a nod of his forehead, "This is Buffy, Faith, Spike. Showed up just in time, we wouldn't be standing here if they hadn't. Thought they could use a meal and a good night's sleep."

Hershel, who'd stood by with a shotgun in hand during the story, relaxed and moved forward to put a hand on Spike's shoulder, "That's all I need to hear. You're welcome to set up camp wherever you feel like, provided you're careful. This place isn't the safe haven it seems like. Walkers still come in from time to time and we can't protect everyone. Why don't you all come inside and get something to eat, we'll discuss arrangements in the morning."

Spike froze at the hand on his shoulder and Buffy gave him a look of pity, "We could use it." She sighed with a grateful smile, "It feels like we've been driving for weeks."

Until the group started to move towards the house, Faith hadn't been listening. Instead, she had busied herself watching the other members of Rick's group, trying to mentally categorize them based on how easy a mark they looked. When Buffy motioned to follow Hershel, she folded her arms and took the order.

Perfume and cigarette smoke lingered in the air and caused Shane to intensely watch Buffy's group pass him, taking in everything about them. Buffy and Spike paid him little attention but Faith's eyes caught his and she shot him a sexually charged grin over her shoulder. He looked at the sky, made an amused 'hooo' sound and shook his head, smirking as he clapped Rick on the shoulder, "You're about to bring a curse down on this farm, Buddy, I tell you what."

"Already cursed." Daryl sneered, pulling what little he'd salvaged from the wrecks out of the truck bed - Rick's bottled water, a palm-sized cardboard box and two Hillshire Farms sausage and cheese gift packs. He shoved the box into his pocket and shut the tailgate with the other items under his arm.

Shane raised his brow at Daryl then turned to Rick, looking back at the new women every few seconds, "Tell me those two ain't gonna cause a ruckus? Tell me that, man."

Rick looked from his friends to the new arrivals, taking them in for the first time. Spike and Faith were white as the dead, both of them effortlessly leather and denim clad in the heavy heat of the Georgia summer. Neither of their hair seemed to be a color found in nature, Faith's holding an unnatural curl and sleekness that suggested excessive grooming.

Buffy wore a lavender velvet tube top and white Capri pants, her skin an even toned tan. Their make up, a commodity that hadn't been seen in the group since before Rick joined up with them, hadn't been melted or smeared by the heat. None of them sporting insect bites, sunburns or the wounds you would expect with the kind of travel they described save what looked like a snake bite on Faith's shoulder, peeking out from under the collar of her black denim jacket. And, despite the fact that everyone in Rick's group had lost a significant amount of weight due to food becoming more and more scarce, Buffy's group seemed healthy, meaty and alert.

Rick looked back at Shane, a quiet resolve in his voice, "They saved our lives, Shane. We got no reason to turn them out. What was I supposed to do?"

Shane shook his head, "Do what you want, man, just don't come crying to me when _our_ women are all in a twist and they will be, mark my words."

Daryl gave Rick and Shane a look then huffed and followed the group, Rick on his heels, asking for his advice, "This is the right thing. Right thing to do, the only thing." He said under his breath, as if asking for permission that Daryl wasn't going to give him.

Up ahead the visitors walked past some of Rick's group - Carol, Carl and Andrea - who had turned out to get a look at the new people on the farm. Spike glanced at the boy first and then the women. He noticed Carol giving him a strange look, which he responded to with a wink and a smirk. Before Carol could stop herself, her cheeks flushed and she looked away, the fingertips of one hand lightly covering her mouth.

Daryl looked from Carol to Spike then narrowed his eyes at the other man and picked up the pace of the group, helping to herd them up the porch stairs and into the house.


	4. Bartering

"So there I am, in _half_ a bikini," Faith slurred past the greedy portion of pie stuffed in her cheeks, "Chainsaw over my head…" She lifted both arms up, holding her fork in the air as a stand-in for the machine, "And all of the sudden I hear this _siren_ …"

She was sitting up on the back of an arm chair in Hershel's living room, surrounded by Rick's group and Hershel's family all who had gathered around for a slice of Patricia's mock apple pie and stayed to be entertained by a marathon of Faith's tall tales.

The Grimes family sat to Faith's right, Lori's hands over Carl's ears. Glenn, who had been grinning like an idiot for a half an hour, hung on every word from his seat next to Maggie at Faith's left.

To their left sat Beth and a very interested Spike then Carol, whom Daryl stood behind, leaning against the door frame and occasionally shooting glances out into the dark. Jimmy and T-Dog rounded out the circle.

Andrea had followed an angry Shane outside when the strangers were welcomed too quickly for his liking. With the two of them having taken up watch, Dale was free to spend some time in the kitchen where Buffy was helping Patricia with the clean up, "So how's it fairing in Los Angeles?" He asked, putting away the dishes as Buffy dried them.

Patricia glanced over at Buffy who shook her head, "Gone. Everything from San Diego to Seattle." She sighed, took a wet cup out of the draining rack and started to dry it with a small, peach hand towel, "It was already hairy there by the time we made it out. It's actually a lot better out here, believe me."

"But, for how long?" Patricia sighed, her heart sinking at the news that at least one of the sea boards had been over run, "You said you're headed for Arizona. Why? Wouldn't it be safer to find a place to set up camp?"

"Plus, gas isn't easy to come by these days." Dale agreed, shaking his head and taking the cup from Buffy, "What's so special about the Hoover Dam? Family there?"

"Family," Buffy nodded, taking the pie pan out of Patricia's hands to dry it, "Friends. Electricity, water." She handed the pan to Dale and looked up from her chore to see the wide eyed expression on his face,

Dale slowly took the pan from her, "Did you say electricity? And water?"

"Yeah, the cities that get electricity from the dam still have it, plus there's the water reservoir. The shops were still stocked when we drove through, but that was weeks ago. We figure all we have to do is keep people on zombie watch. Not a perfect solution but it's _something_." Buffy cast her eyes around from one look of disbelief to another, " _You_ … you didn't know?"

Before Dale could answer Hershel walked into the kitchen carrying a blanket and two pillows, "I'm sorry, we're crowded as it is and this is all we have on hand but I'm sure you can put then to some use. Someone can sleep in the house on the sofa, and I'd prefer it not be your blond friend. I have nothing against the man but he _is_ a man, and a stranger and I have to think about my daughters."

Buffy took the bedding with a grateful smile, "I understand. I can take the couch, Faith and Spike have the habit of keeping me awake all night then sleeping through the day. I'm selling them, cheap, if you're interested."

Dale and Hershel couldn't help but laugh to themselves but Patricia watched the three of them with growing intensity. She excused herself from the kitchen without anyone noticing.

"If you're here for longer than just tonight you're more than welcome to the extra bedroom, so long as it's left clean and vacated for anyone with a medical emergency. It's not much." Hershel offered and motioned for Buffy and Dale to follow him into the living room, "But I'm afraid we're late to bed as it is tonight, and we have an early start if we're going to regroup and make a run for those supplies we didn't manage today."

"I _really_ wouldn't recommend going back up to the highway." Buffy warned as they made their way from the kitchen, "You should have seen the road when we drove back, they were everywhere."

"There's a town not far from here," Dale offered, "It's not as dangerous but I'm sure it was stripped clean of the little things, like batteries, ages ago."

"Batteries?" Buffy glanced back at Dale, "What kind of batteries?"

He and Hershel exchanged looks before Dale responded to Buffy, "Mostly AAA, why?"

"We hit the outlet stores in every major town, we can probably get you some of the smaller things you need? Never know how long you can stay in a store, or what's going to be left. Deodorant, scarves, shampoo, batteries, SPAM. Please…." She sighed, " _Pleas_ e take the SPAM…"

"Well, that's very generous of you, Miss Summers," Hershel started, "But we don't want to risk your group being stranded without the things you need, especially if you're not going to be settling in one place."

Buffy just shrugged, "We really just grab what we can, about half the van is packed with stuff we can't really use."

"Just the same," Hershel said quietly, "I don't expect you to give up what you've risked your life for. But maybe we can barter for some of the things we need?" He shook his head, "We'll talk tomorrow, for now we should be getting what little sleep we can."

Buffy nodded as they walked back into the living room just in time to hear Glenn make an ass of himself.

"Which half?" He asked Faith before his brain could catch up with his mouth. The Slayer gave Glenn a faux bashful grin and Maggie managed to elbow him in the gut. He jumped and shook the stupid idea out of his head, correcting himself, "I mean, what happened then?"

Maggie shot jealous daggers between Faith and Glenn, and Buffy decided it was time to diffuse the situation, "Alright, okay. Come on, we have to get some sleep or there will be a super cranky Buffy to deal with in the morning." She tossed the pillows and blanket to Spike then motioned to both of her friends, "Come on."

Faith gave Buffy a mock salute as she stood and hopped off the chair. She plucked one of the pillows out of Spike's grasp and headed out of the house but not before shooting a cat-eyed smile at Glenn that didn't escape Maggie. Glenn flushed and smiled back then turned to Maggie to find her glaring at him. He made the, ' _ohhh crap_ ' face but before he could say anything to her she'd stormed off into another room. Glenn looked around helplessly then took off after his girlfriend.

Spike watched the whole thing with amusement, the blanket and second pillow stashed under his arm as he followed Faith out, "So," Spike started and Faith glanced back at him. He shrugged as they walked off the porch, "Which half?"


	5. Coffee

It was still dark when Buffy stirred under the afghan on Hershel's couch, her head propped up by a green floral throw pillow. She yawned and rolled onto her back, trying to force another few minutes of sleep but slowly sat up and stretched her arms over her head, then out in front of her. She glanced around at the quiet living room, wishing there were a digital clock to look at, then slipped off the couch and into her shoes.

With another stretch and a scratch of her back Buffy made her way into the kitchen, but not before bumping her knee on an end table and making a small agony face, " _Ughh_ ," She looked around at the kitchen, trying to make out what was what in the dark. She went from one cupboard to the next, quietly searching the contents of every container looking for something specific. She made a face and sighed, resigning herself to making her way back through the obstacle course that was the living room.

She winced at the sound the door made as she tried to quietly push it open and let herself out onto the porch. Despite it being early summer the pre-dawn morning was fairly cool and the campsite out front of the house looked almost ethereal surrounded by soft mists of fog that hadn't settled into the grass yet. From far off she noticed a campfire being put out near the tree line and folded her arms, squinting to get a better look. The fog was too thick and she barely realized it was Daryl, probably gearing up for a hunt. She watched him retreat into the woods for a moment then shrugged.

Buffy stepped off of the porch and headed to the white van parked between the closest tent and the house, on what had once been the lawn but now more resembled the camping area of a national park. Unable to suppress another yawn, she opened the sliding side door of the van and pushed it back with a grunt. She climbed into the van, stepping over Faith's legs as quietly as she could to get to the crates of looted supplies that were nearly stacked to the roof and took up an easy half of the van.

She grabbed one of the many large purses Faith had pilfered in their last sweep of a Target and started loading goods into it - coffee, canned tuna, sugar cubes, creamer, toothpaste and a handful of tooth brushes, mouthwash and a couple of small packages of cheap sandwich cookies. She glanced over at Faith, who was sleeping sitting up with her back against the back of the driver's seat, Spike's coat draped over her. Spike was sleeping in the passenger's seat and snoring loudly, so loud that Buffy had trouble believing that anyone but Faith could sleep through it. Faith, who would often be awake for two or three days at a time then crash for a day, could sleep through anything.

Being as stealthy as possible she eased back out of what was now effectively a crawl space flanked by canned goods, grabbing her little yellow striped makeup bag that was stowed under one of the seats near Faith's knee. She stashed it in the purse then opened a zip-top yellow Coach bag and rifled through it for a moment before pulling out a pair of gray slacks and a brown tank top with gray and pink floral embroidery. She stuffed the clothes in her purse with a pair of brown cork wedges and climbed backwards out of the van, shutting the door as quietly as she could manage.

She was heading up the porch stairs when she heard the van door slide open again. Faith had done a quick change into blue jeans and a black split-neck muscle tank that was barely long enough to cover her stomach and had "NOT A PLASTIC BAG" splatter-painted across the chest in neon green and was now sitting in the slide track doorway of the van, pulling on black motorcycle boots. She gave Spike a quick glance then shut the door and trotted to catch up with Buffy.

"Did I wake you up?" Buffy asked in a whisper, pausing on the stairs and waiting for Faith to catch up with her. She stood to the side as Faith climbed past her onto the porch.

Faith shook her head and cracked her neck joints with a yawn, She thought better of it then shrugged, "Well, yeah, but I was already pretty much awake. Saw you and I figure, hey, Spike's out, I'm up. Might as well do the morning thing."

"Well, since you're up you wanna give me a hand?" Buffy asked, walking up to meet Faith and slowly opening the screen door, "They have absolutely nothing that isn't cinnamon or salt in that kitchen."

"We on breakfast patrol? Because we got all that SPAM…" Faith asked then noted Buffy's little Mr Yuk reaction at the mention of the potted meat, "No problem, Boss, just point me at a job. Be better than sittin' on my ass all day."

When the day finally started Hershel made his way downstairs and was hit by the smell of coffee. It wasn't long before he'd made it to the kitchen to find Buffy and Faith, in fresh clothes and make up, happily chatting and laughing with his daughters.

Buffy was busy cracking eggs into the skillet next to the chopped but plain potatoes Faith had found in the pantry, half grinning as Beth told her a week old story that included Shane missing a target with a throwing knife and having to reach into a cow pie to get it back. Faith sat on the counter next to the sink, chewing on a cookie with a cup of coffee next to her. She was less attentive to the story but still managed to laugh at the appropriate times.

Maggie and Beth each had a cup in their hand and Beth was already digging in to the first plate of breakfast while her sister waited for her eggs to finish up cooking.

Hershel cleared his throat and both of his girls looked towards him, as did Buffy, while Faith mindlessly stared out the window at the people living on the farm as they finally started getting ready for a days work. He looked around at the women and brightened, "Do I smell what I think I smell?"

"Coffee." Maggie grinned, "Real coffee. Buffy and Faith said we can keep the can." There was the unmistakable note of glee in her voice that suggested a caffeine fix for a long overdue addict, and it seemed that the jealousy from the night before had already been forgotten, "Were we too loud?"

"No, I'm just surprised to see you all awake so early." Hershel placed a hand on Beth's shoulder as Faith finally got off her butt and poured the man a cup of coffee. She slid it in front of him on the counter and he picked it up gratefully, "Is everyone awake already?"

"I think Andrea's sleeping, but she was on night shift again." Maggie responded, but she knew her father meant to ask about Patricia, who had been on edge since the night before.

Faith hopped up onto the counter again and turned her attention out the window, she was obviously looking for someone and, for a moment, Maggie was worried it was Glenn, "Think we oughta get some coffee out to the party people?"

"I think they'd appreciate it." Hershel nodded as he sipped, "They've had so little these last weeks and every little comfort counts."

Faith's brow raised. She wanted to bring up the fact that the campers had to sleep outside and be Walker bait while Hershel talked about how they suffer without coffee, but instead she found a thermos in the cabinet, filled it with coffee and hopped off the counter. All she managed to say was, " _Dixon_." as if she were a child calling shotgun, but she was out of the house before anyone could question her.

The women watched Faith go, Maggie and Beth obviously caught off guard by her announcement and just stared the way she had gone until Maggie's breakfast was plated and put in front of her. Buffy scraped down the cast iron frying pan and turned to Hershel, "Eggs?"


	6. Hey Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, this fic is going on longer than I'd planned, but instead of capping myself at a certain amount of chapters I think I'm just going to keep writing until the story is finally over.

Spike snorted, waking up abruptly at the sound of the van door being shoved open. It was still an hour or so before the sun peeked it's way over the horizon. Faith sat side saddle in the doorway and peeled her tank top off, replacing it with a clingy 'Ride With Style' Harley Davidson t-shirt that had the collar cut out so that it nearly fell over one shoulder. She stuffed her other shirt into the duffel bag with her clothes and reapplied her lipstick. Spike watched her curiously in the rear view mirror, actually having to readjust it to get a better view, "Putting on a fashion show for the natives?"

Faith glanced back and caught Spike's gaze over her shoulder. She smirked and fished a pack of Camels out of the duffel bag, "Going hunting." She pushed them into her pocket.

Maneuvering to try and see what she was doing, Spike's brow quirk, an odd tone in his voice, "Not for rabbits, I take it?"

Climbing out of the van, Faith glanced back at Spike and half-rolled her eyes. His meaning wasn't lost on her, "Don't be like that. Thought we agreed the drama shit was over."

Stretching, Spike hefted himself into the driver's seat and shrugged casually, "Can't help it."

"Won't be long, can't do it all at once. This one's gonna take it's time - stubborn rabbit." She grinned at Spike and shoved the door shut. He watched her go with a sigh, shook his head then climbed out of the van for a smoke.

It was still twilight-like outside, cool and breezy, something the Georgia sun would put an end to as soon as it made it's way over the forest but for now Spike had a few moments to take in some fresh air. He pulled his duster out of the crumple behind his seat where Faith had left it then hauled it on and took a pack of Marlboro out of the pocket along with a silver butane lighter that had some letters scratched into it's shiny surface.

He walked around to the other side of the van and leaned his weight onto his shoulder against the vehicle, watching Faith walk off to God knows where as he lit his breakfast. He narrowed his eyes as he saw Shane approach her from out of nowhere and smirked when she circled the man like a shark. Suddenly she was in the cowboy's face and the man backed up quickly, and Spike created a scenario in his head where Shane had assumed Faith would be intimidated by him and didn't know how to handle it when she wasn't. They were arguing, but it was too quiet and they were too far off for him to piece it together, even with his supernatural hearing. He mulled over getting involved for a moment but then Faith stalked off, leaving Shane to watch her angrily and Spike just shook his head. His girl could take care of herself.

Spike sighed out smoke and glanced around at the rest of the camp, trying to place names to faces from the night before. So far only a few members were awake, the men, mostly. He could see Rick a ways off by the RV, saying something to Dale in front of the vehicle instead of letting him relieve T-Dog, who stood on top of the RV, of his watch duty early. Lori and Carol were a by the Grimes tent, sorting laundry out into two gingham picnic blankets that were then folded and tied into bindles for carrying. They all seemed wrapped up in what they were doing and it crossed Spike's mind for an instant how easy these people would be to pick off if the zombies had any method to their madness.

"Eggs, potatoes, toast and coffee." Spike heard a voice behind him and turned to see Beth holding a plate and a mug out to him. His brow arched up to his hairline but he shook it off. She gave the plate a little, insistent shake, "It's getting cold. You must be hungry."

Spike let her shove the mug into his hand and looked down at it. It slowly dawned on him that in the rush to get settled last night they hadn't explained anything to these people - this girl thought he was human. He looked around at the camp - they all did. She was still smiling at him, expectantly, and he made a decision. He took the plate from her with his cigarette-ed hand and smiled, "Famished, love." he saw the look of relief in her eyes when he held up his mug and took a sip, "Thanks…" He narrowed his eyes for a moment, trying to wrestle her name out of the fog, " _Beth_."

He ran open the sliding side door and sat in the doorway, setting his plate and mug on a flat of shrink-wrapped cans behind him. Before he could say anything Beth was sitting beside him, her hands folded in her lap. He watched her curiously for a few moments, "So," he started but Beth cut him off.

"What's it like in Los Angeles? I mean, what _was_ it like? Before?"

Spike sucked in his cheeks, he didn't like talking about L.A. before this particular apocalypse. For months they had taken turns answering that question to a moon-eyed teenager or pathetic housewife in almost every survivor group they came along in the Midwest and Southern states. But he didn't see any point in being cruel to the kid, after all, what chance was there that she would up and leave for Hollywood with the world in the state it was in now? No harm in a little white lie. Spike shook his head, "It was a _postcard_. Swimming pools, movie stars."

"Oh." Beth smiled weakly, a look of regret in her eyes that Spike took to be for a Hollywood she would never visit and palm trees she would never see. He wished, now, that he hadn't said anything and was mentally kicking himself when Beth glanced away from him to an approaching figure. Spike looked over his shoulder to see Carol making her way over to them.

"Good morning." Carol smiled at them both, carrying her laundry bindle at her hip, addressing Beth, "Rick wants to talk to your father about pushing the tree line back. Something about a fence, Lori wasn't exactly clear on that. Is he busy?" She knew better than to ask if Hershel were awake, he spent more time awake than most of them and was usually up and at em hours before dawn.

"Um, I don't know?" Beth looked at Spike then got up and dusted the back of her skirt off, "The last time I saw him he was talking to Buffy about making some trades. I can go ask?"

"If it's not a bother?" Carol responded, thanking the girl with a smile and a squeeze of her hand. They watched as Beth smiled back and quickly made it back into the house, "Such a sweetheart."

Spike's eyes made their way to Carol and he nodded, "She's a _peach_." He didn't know what to say to her, she wasn't bubbly, angry, violent or intense, which were his usual speed. Generally he was good at this - reading people and using it to win them over. But Carol wasn't the open book that the others were. She was quiet, kind and soft spoken, and other than being laden with some kind of anguish he couldn't manage to get a handle on her. He only watched, trying to eek out bits of her personality from what little she was saying and doing.

"So," Spike started, looking the woman over, trying for subtle as he prodded at her in hopes of gaining some kind of insight into her life, "Your first apocalypse, then?"

A bit surprised at his choice of wording, Carol turned her eyes from her laundry to look up at Spike, the first time she'd had a good look at him since the strangers had made their way to the farm the night before. She looked a little put off by his question and her brow fell, "There's been more than one?"

"Hmm?" Eyes settling evenly on hers, Spike shrugged a shoulder up casually, "Bout one a year, far back as I can remember. Probably the worst in a few decades, though," Spike took a long, even drag of his cigarette and mulled over the memory of the gargantuan fights he'd been a part of. After a moment of thinking he added, "Though that whole giant gorilla thing in the 30s was pretty bad, come to think of it. What about you, love? Had your fair share of scary, I'd wager?"

Spike's answer and follow up questions were nothing more than confusing to Carol and he mentally cursed himself for not being able to read a damn thing about her response as she sighed, "I guess so." She glanced over at her tent then back at Spike, shifting the bindle to her other hip, now wishing she'd just taken Andrea's advice and tied it to a great big stick like you're supposed to, "Giant gorilla?" she gave him an odd look, unable to shake his comment about living through the 1930s from her mind and she took a moment to wonder if he were drunk as well as sleepy. She took another look at the door, quelling the urge to take a whiff of his coffee and thereby rule whiskey out of the equation, but settled for waiting for Beth to return, "I think I saw that movie..."

"Movie?" Spike squinted his eyes thoughtfully then looked up at the sky and murmured, "Movie..." After a moment he gave up trying to figure out whether or not it really happened or he just saw it on television and shrugged his shoulders up high then slumped back, abandoning King Kong in favor of the task at hand.

Carol turned away from the door and smiled at Spike, "So, you're from England? That must be exciting…"

A wince was bit back, hidden by a subtle sneer, and Spike put his best Billy Idol face on, "Depends on your definition of exciting. What 'bout you? Always lived in Georgia?"

But Carol wasn't listening anymore. Her eyes were focused on something far off and Spike turned his head to see what she was looking at. Far across the field Faith stood at the edge of Daryl's camp with a lit cigarette, the two of them having a stoic, shaky conversation. It seemed to consume Carol's attention and she mumbled, "What's she doing?"

Spike smirked and shook his head, leaning against the door frame, "Hunting."

Carol didn't seem to find that remark as funny as Spike did, but if she had choice words for him she kept them to herself. Spike glanced between her and the scene at the tree line with interest. She was intently watching the stranger and Daryl, one arm crossed in front of her chest, her other hand mindlessly fiddling a tiny cross at her throat. She watched, wordlessly, as Faith leaned in to Daryl, her hands gripping the man's shirt collar, but Faith's entire body was in the way and what was happening was impossible to make out at this distance. Faith headed out of the camp towards the van, glancing back at Daryl over her shoulder and the word in Carol's mind somehow made it softly past her lips, " _Tart."_


	7. Hey Jealousy Part 2

Leaning against the pick up Shane had been watching Faith from across the yard most of the morning, his mind replaying the memory of the shameless look she had given him and wondered how long it would be before something played out between them. He squinted a bit as she changed her shirt practically out in the open and smirked, looking around to see if it was raising a reaction from the other campers. They seemed not to notice and Shane went back to watching.

Faith pulled her shoulders back, cracking some kind of joint in her shoulder blades with a wince as she made her way from the van with Daryl's coffee in tow. She almost felt guilty for not being more delicate with Spike about her plans, especially given the fact that this apocalypse was turning out to be a frighteningly long and outdrawn one compared to the last few Buffy's group had been through. They all had enough to worry about these days without the kind of tension that always started up when Spike thought their little group would have to accommodate new people.

He had been so uncharacteristically sullen and protective lately, and Buffy had deduced that it was just Spike dealing with the fact that they were cut off from the Scoobies and what few Slayers remained. Several times Buffy had suggested that Spike should mingle with and get to know the new people they encountered, but he rarely seemed interested enough and Faith often wondered if he was losing hope the way so many of their group had.

The thought was crowding Faith's head and she paused, considering turning back to assess the situation with her friend when she found herself unexpectedly in Shane's company. He smirked at her in an almost knowing way, both hands resting on his belt. She stared at him blankly, waiting for whatever it was he wanted to come spilling out of his mouth.

"Faith, huh?" Was that a question? She didn't know, and didn't bother to respond to Shane but she didn't have to - and he didn't wait for her to, "Were looking at me last night, am I right?"

She shrugged, seeming exhausted already with the very presence of the man, "And?"

"Come on, now." Her lack of enthusiasm for whatever it was Shane was getting at seemed to tick him off and he looked her up and down, "Don't play that game with _me_."

Faith grimaced and slowly started to circle Shane, glaring at him, "The _chase_. _Get to it_. I got coffee to deliver. Stuff to do that doesn't involve fapping it with Barney Fife."

Shane watched Faith intently, angrily. Wherever these new people came from, they could go right back in flames as far as he was concerned, "Just wasting time." He barely spoke the words before Faith was in his face, slowly moving towards him in a way that had Shane forgetting himself, and backing up with his hands raised like someone had a gun to his back.

Faith warned in almost a whisper, a painful grin sliding onto her face, " _You don't wanna say anymore_." She made a sudden, somewhat threatening gesture and Shane winced despite himself. She grunted a ghetto challenge under her breath, " _Do_ somethin'." Damn pleased with herself, Faith licked her bottom lip and started a cartoon-ish strut off towards Daryl's camp. Shane seethed behind her, watching her go but making no move to stop her.

Daryl heard the soft swish of grass under Faith's feet as she approached, the telltale scent of jasmine and cigarettes told him it was one of Buffy's camp and he cursed to himself. He was sitting in front of his fire, sharpening what, to Faith, almost looked like a stake with a knife that seemed too big for the task and didn't look up until she cleared her throat.

She was all the paler in the lavender glow of dawn, holding a thermos in one limp arm, the other hand sitting on her hip with her index and middle fingers threaded through a belt loop. To his surprise Daryl noticed that she was purposely standing outside his camp waiting for permission from him to enter, a courtesy the other members of his own group had never extended to him.

Daryl took in her appearance but said nothing. She must have noticed it because she slowly smiled and it struck him how well she would fit in a White Snake video, as if writhing on top of a sports car was what a girl like Faith was built for. Reluctantly he up-nodded and she stepped closer, tossing him the plaid thermos, "Heads up."

Awkwardly, Daryl caught the thermos with his left hand but nearly fumbled it for a moment, "Whats'is?" He mumbled, turning it over in his hand to inspect it.

"Coffee. You want sugar? You got legs, it's in the kitchen."

He eyed Faith for a moment then set the thermos down and mumbled something that sounded like a thanks. Faith took it, "No problem. Mind?" She motioned to his fire and he gave her an odd look. She explained herself by pulling the pack of Camels out of the pocket of her jeans and holding them up. She tapped the pack on the palm of her hand then pulled a cigarette out with her lips.

It didn't take Daryl long to realize what she was asking him and he just stared at her, not too shocked when she did what she wanted anyway. She sat on the ground near his campfire and pulled her hair into a low ponytail with one hand to keep it out of the fire. She leaned into the flames, taking a few puffs before pulling back and swatting out an ember that had landed on her shoulder. With that she climbed to her feet, brushed the dust off her butt. She ran her hands through her hair and started walking off.

It was Daryl's turn to pipe up, "Got any more'a those?" Faith glanced back with fake surprise and tossed him the pack, which he caught a little easier than he'd caught the thermos a few moments before. He looked down at the pack and frowned - Camels. But you took what you could get these days. He pulled a cigarette out and pushed it to his lips, turning to a bag on the ground to look for a lighter that had been among Merle's things.

Faith's voice caused him to pause and look back in her direction, " _I got this._ " She stepped over some of his belongings and approached him, wondering how close he'd let her get before he shot up a tree like a scared cat. She could see fight or flight in his eyes battling it out with curiosity as to what she may do next. Faith took hold of Daryl's collar and bent to close the gap between their faces enough for the tip of her cigarette to press against his.

Daryl seemed paler than usual, caught in her gaze like a deer in headlights and it seemed to take forever before he started to drag on his cigarette, lighting it with hers. Faith smirked and backed off as quickly as she'd advanced. She stepped out of the firelight and then out of his camp. She gave him a look over her shoulder as she headed back for the van, leaving him with nothing to do but to simply watch her go.


	8. Patricia

Though the sun was starting to peek over the horizon, Spike still sat in the open van and watched as Faith walked back towards the house. He was a little relieved to see that her lipstick was in the same condition now that it had been when she left the vehicle to pamper the redneck across the yard. He huffed at the thought and pouted, arms folded but didn't bother to slide the door shut.

Carol was grateful for Spike's distraction as Faith approached and used it as an excuse to slip away, catching Spike's, "Don't I get a coffee?" before she made it out of range to hear the rest. She tried to keep her mind focused on her chores, realizing she still held the make-shift laundry sack and that the clothing would need to be on the line before noon to get the full effect of the sun. Still, she felt the need for a few minutes to get herself situated and burn the images from her mind of Faith so casually being allowed at Daryl's side.

She made it to the John Deere at the side of the house then started walking in the direction of the small herd of parked cars down the grassy road that led out of the gates until she saw T-Dog and Shane arguing in front of the blue pick-up over T-Dog's constant early leave from his watch post. Carol paused - for a zombie apocalypse it sure was getting crowded. Too crowded to find a moment alone. She began to wander back to the house when she heard a soft weeping somewhere nearby. A quick sweep of the area around her and it didn't take long to find Patricia, sitting on the grass next to a large bowl of chicken feed with her head in her hands.

Carol's brow furrowed as she stepped closer and eventually sank into the grass next the crying woman, a hand going to rest on her back. They didn't know each other well, and barely spoke under normal circumstances, but it broke Carol's heart to see her like this, "Patricia? What's the matter?"

The sobbing must have gotten louder because before Carol knew it Shane, T-Dog and Andrea had wandered over to see what the fuss was about. Andrea crouched next to Patricia and started checking her arms for bites or scratches but was pushed away for her efforts.

Shane squatted in the dirt in front of Patricia and, as if only one of them could care at a time, Andrea took that as a cue to get to her feet and stand back, "What happened?" she asked Carol, the other woman being too grief laden to help her understand. When Carol helplessly shrugged Andrea rolled her eyes and walked a few feet away then came back, "We're too far from the house for this kind of racket." But Shane glanced back at Andrea pointedly and she shrugged, angrily looking away, " _Fine_."

Taking both of Patricia's hands in his Shane tilted his head to try and look her in the eye, "Patricia? _**Patricia**_?" When she didn't answer he sighed and stood up, " _Perfect_. Absolutely perfect." He mulled over what to do for a good long while before speaking again, "Bites?" he asked Andrea who just folded her arms and shook her head.

" _Buffy_ …" was what finally came out of Patricia's mouth when the sobs grew weaker. She turned and grabbed for Carol, using her shoulder to cry into. Trying to stroke Patricia's back comfortingly, Carol looked up at the other three, unsure of what to make of this.

She saw Shane's features contort before he started to pace like an angry rooster, scrubbing his hands over his face, "I knew it. I _knew_ it." He grumbled and whipped back around to the group, "Here one night and already causing a ruckus, like we need another fucking reason to cry around here. I don't care **what** Rick says, they're outta here _today_."

"Ain't even seven yet. Known where Buffy was all day," T-Dog argued, staying put even after Shane invaded his space, "What the hell could she have done, made too much breakfast?"

"Yeah, because Patricia just cries her ass off all the time?" Andrea sighed, her words heavy with sarcasm and exhaustion from another night spent on top of the RV. She immediately became backup, moving to stand behind Shane, "I know she's cute, but _Jesus_ , T-Dog."

Shane looked back at Andrea then returned his attention to T-Dog, tickled by something, "Is that it, man? Pretty little thing, ain't she? Thinkin' about gettin' yourself a little girlfriend now so all's right with the world?"

" _Watch_ your _mouth_." T-Dog took a step forward, warning in his voice, but Shane stood his ground and T-Dog set his jaw. The two of them stood, eyes locked, ready for the other to make a move when Daryl pushed between them from out of nowhere.

"The fuck is this, a _tea party_?" He looked between the two angry men, arms to his side with no intention of stopping any brewing fight, "Rick's been hollering his ass off for Shane for twenty minutes and you're out here playing grab ass." His eyes landed on Patricia and he motioned to her with his chin, "S'wrong with her?"

"New neighbors, that's what." Shane answered, still glaring at T-Dog but finding the ability to address Daryl, "Bout to go evicting."

Daryl squinted at Shane, looking more confused by his answer then he would have if just left to wonder about the situation. Carol simply shrugged and clarified, "Buffy's group. Something's happened to Patricia."

"Buffy's group?" More confusion for Daryl, "All been in earshot all day, 'cept for Summers I guess. Ain't she in the house with Hershel?"

"She said Buffy's name." Carol sighed weakly, still trying to comfort the woman who clung to her, "Patricia said Buffy's name. It's all she's managed to say, though, there are a lot of conclusions being jumped to." She felt a twinge of anger at Shane and Andrea for putting her in a position to defend Buffy and her friends, especially after the events of the morning until now but she knew she was right - no one, yet, had any idea what had happened except Patricia, "We don't know that anyone did anything yet."

Angrily, Shane threw his hands in the air and finally walked away from T-Dog, " _Un_ believable. Un-fucking-believable." he stomped back to stand between Daryl and Andrea, "So, what, then? We just let em take over? Already takin' our food over, already takin' up our space!"

Shane's outburst only made Patricia's sobs louder and Carol gave him the worst look she could muster. She opened her mouth to say something but Daryl was already in the other man's face, "You got somethin' to complain about? Join the _fucking_ **club**."

"Hoh, _hooh_ , here we go, man." Shane's hands found his belt and he circled Daryl the way Faith had circled him just an hour earlier, "You're so impartial on this, right? Like we all ain't seen you and Buffy's muscle thick as thieves this morning?" Daryl's eyes found Carol's for a moment then flicked away. They followed the movements of his harasser but he didn't move and Shane took it as a cue to keep on poking the bear, "Looked pretty cozy to _me_. I guess you got everything to gain if they stay, am I right? Bet you'd say anything to keep em here." He looked around at the rest of them with an amused smirk, "Gotta say, relief to see you with a _woman_ for a change."

The taunt made Daryl snap and he had Shane in a headlock from behind before anyone could stop him. Shane managed to turn a little despite the other man's grip and gave him a punch to the ribs. The pain from which played over Daryl's face but he was furious. He refused to let go and Shane was almost on his knees by the time Rick jogged up and grabbed Daryl's shoulders, trying to pull him off. With a rough shove Daryl turned Shane loose. Shane struggled to suck in a breath, sitting on his knees in the dirt and shooting daggers at everyone. He rubbed at his throat, panting and angry.

Rick sighed and held his hand to his forehead, the other on his belt, "What the hell is going on out here? Patricia's missing, we need everyone to meet at the house and figure out where to go from there."

Carol cleared her throat and Rick looked down at the woman who sat clutching her. Relief flooded his expression and he knelt down to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, asking her caretaker, "How long has she been like this?"


	9. You're Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a little Spike and Faith stuff! Much more to come, but I've had a hard time fitting it in. This is my favorite chapter to this point, I hope you like it!

There was a hard, urgent pounding on the door of the van that woke Faith from her nap and startled the hell out of Spike. He had been sitting behind the driver's seat with Faith curled up against him, the duster over them both, and he'd been watching her sleep peacefully until the silence was broken by the bastard on the other side of the door.

Outside the van Rick gave another impatient thump with the side of his fist and the door slid open quickly, Faith bounding out with purpose, arm pulled back and wooden stake in her hand. She rolled her eyes when she saw the source of the noise, lowered her hand slowly and called back to Spike, "It's _Rick_." She started to shove her stake through a belt loop, addressing Rick now, "Fuck _me_ , dude, you gotta stop doin' stuff like that. Like to get your face tore off."

Eyes not yet adjusted to the light, Spike squinted and peered out at the man who'd jolted him out of a nice moment where there were breasts against his chest and thrust him into another moment with a lot of sunshine and a severe lack of boobs, " _Oi_! Can't just come snooping around the bloody van, Mate, it's _not_ _ **on**_."

Rick stepped back from Faith quickly, not knowing what to make of what amounted to a sharp stick in her hand. He gave a quick glance to Spike then moved intense, angry eyes back to Faith, "Get in the house. Both of you." He didn't wait for a response and was up the stairs and through the screen door before Faith's brain could process what was going on. Carl, who was standing on the porch with a bottle of water in his hands, watched his father go by wordlessly.

"Wow, that's what I call wound." Faith glanced back at Spike then to the rapidly rising pre-noon sun and cursed under her breath. She sighed and looked into the van, "You heard the man. Not far to the door, up for a run?"

While trying to make it to a crouch in the confined space Spike gave Faith a dirty look then pulled his duster on, " _Right_. I'm sure this is **completely** important, _**not**_ boring _at all_ , and I'll get a cookie for participation."

"Quit your bitchin', Blondie." Faith stretched her arms behind her head, grinning broadly at him, "They screwed up. Gonna get you inside for the day so you're not cramped up out here for another eight hours."

Spike's brow suddenly raised, the idea of being back in the comfortable house appealing to him, " _Oooo_ , I _like_ inside… They have chairs, and pillows." He hiked his coat up over his head, "And those little peanut butter cookie things I like."

Faith shook her head and grinned, " _Tshhh_ … guess you get that cookie after all." She put her hand on the door latch and moved out of his way, "You ready?" Spike nodded and bolted from the van. Faith slammed the door and took off after him. They made it to the overhang of the porch and Faith gave Spike a hard pat on the back, stamping out a small flame that had sprung up on his shoulder blade. He pulled his coat down off of his head and slid it back into place, fumbling with the collar as he gave her a grateful look before leading the way inside.

Carl watched silently, forgotten in the race to beat the sun to the door. He saw the flames and smelled the singe, but didn't know what to think about it passed a sinking feeling of worry.

When Spike and Faith finally entered the house the hysterics had calmed down somewhat. They found themselves in the presence of T-Dog, Shane, Glenn, Buffy and the Greene girls with Hershel and Rick presiding over the meeting. Carol sat with Patricia on the sofa, trying her best to calm her still constant sobbing.

"Whoa, who died?" Faith asked, looking around the room. Her searching didn't find any comfort in the eyes of the others in the room and her expression sank, " _Oh, god_ …"

But Spike finished her thought, "Everybody alive?" He asked, folding his arms in front of his chest.

"No one died, or at least I don't think so." Buffy was standing between Maggie and Hershel with her arms folded at her waist, "Nobody's told me anything but that somehow we… _I_ … have upset Patricia." She sighed, trying to be less moody, "The problem is, I don't think I've said two words to her since last night and for some reason she won't talk."

"Well, she's on about something." Shane grunted, "You mean to tell me you did some dishes then never saw her again?"

"Uh, _yeah._ " Buffy countered Shane's accusations with her Sunnydale attitude - upbeat, even when angry, "I _mean_ to tell you **a lot** of things, namely that I've done nothing but go out on a limb for you people since we got here. Why would I want to hurt Patricia? It's _senseless_!"

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_ , hold on…" Faith stepped forward, putting her hands up to quiet the group, "If Buffy fucked up how come I have to be here?" There was a sucking sound next to her as Spike tried to keep from snorting a laugh at that.

Buffy shot Faith an angry, squinty look but Carol stopped them all by putting a hand up, "Stop, just _stop_ … this isn't getting us anywhere." She took Patricia's shoulders and gently helped her to pull herself up into a sitting position, "Patricia, what happened?"

Finally, after having struggled for words all morning, Patricia spoke up. Her voice was hoarse and shaky from crying, and she shook her head without looking up at any of them, "Buffy didn't do anything wrong." In the state she was in, it was easy to ignore the eye roll from Spike, the air crush from Faith and the door slamming as Shane stormed out into the daylight. Maggie sat on Patricia's unoccupied side and rubbed her back, helping her to continue, "She said…" shaking her head and wringing her hands, "She said there was still electricity…"

Closing her eyes Buffy sighed, wanting to remind them that they still had the generator but Patricia went on, "And food, and water… and people. New people…" She looked up at Maggie then at Hershel, "Otis is gone. I'm all alone here."

"That's not true," Maggie tried to console her grief stricken friend, taking one of her hands, "You have _us_. You have the farm, you have a lot more than a lot of people have."

"And us." Glenn piped up, "All of us." He looked around at the room, "Right?" His question warranted nods and agreement from all involved, even Spike, who hadn't really been listening.

"No…" Patricia said, weakly, "No. I don't. No one even talks to me anymore, I may as well be invisible… I'm not part of the family. Otis was my family, and he's gone. I've thought…" she sobbed softly, letting her head fall forward so that her eyes were covered by her hands, "I've thought of ending it all so often. Of just letting go. But I want to live, I just don't want to live… like _this_."

By now Maggie was in tears, squeezing the woman's hand, "Don't talk like that… please, don't talk like that… Not after everything that's happened."

Hershel didn't have to bend far to put his hand on Patricia's shoulder and responded with a gravel in his voice, "You are family, and you always have been. If we made you feel any different then that's a shame on us and it's got nothing to do with you or how well you're cared about here. But I can certainly understand how frustrating it is to be one of those who've been lost in the shuffle now that the danger is more present than it was."

"I just don't see the need for me in this world." She had finally stopped crying and was now staring at the coffee table in a way that suggested a loss of will, "I _am_ invisible. Have been my whole life, at least until Otis. What do I really contribute? Besides feeding the chickens and making the pies? I can't live all by myself. Without Otis… I don't know what to live for. When Buffy spoke of a place with new people… with stocked stores and…" she slowly lifted her eyes to Buffy, pleading for something, "I'll give you anything I have if you'll take me with you…"


	10. Dreamcast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to a flashback, this is a bit longer than the other chapters.

**11 Months Earlier - Anaheim, California**

Faith lay on her stomach in black jeans and a tight black Nirvana t-shirt, on the end of the bed facing the TV and chewing on a red vine, knees bent and boots kicked up to hover in the air over her butt and swing softly as she swayed her legs. Coming back to California to find Angel had been a bust but they were working their way up and down the coasts in teams of two or three and, unfortunately, she had been saddled with Spike and Anaheim instead of Buffy and the rubble that once was L.A. - Where the real action was. Where they would probably find Angel.

She didn't have any issues with Spike, not really. He was quick, good in a fight and fun to be around when he wasn't laying the tired and drunken old 'love-of-his-un-life, blah blah blah Buffy' crap all over her. She had sat through the endless lament that was Angel and Buffy and sitting through yet more Summers didn't appeal to her so she pretty much stayed in her room when they weren't on Angel's trail. Mostly their lives were just lazy summer days in an abandon vacation town then a flurry of activity at night when the demons crept out to party. That was, until recently.

As the season progressed, it all began to change - somehow their objective had become lost in the warm weather. They had taken to breaking into pools and sneaking into demon clubs where they gazed too long and danced too close with one another. If Buffy could see them now, she'd likely put another blade in Faith's gut for what was going on but as the summer grew more intense the Slayer had simply stopped caring. Spike, unwittingly, had become Faith's partner in crime and when it was good, it was better than good.

If Faith had been paying attention she would have noticed the tangerine light of the sun slide down the tropical wallpaper then disappear from her hotel wall as the sun set, followed only moments by footsteps and a soft rap on the door. She glanced in the direction of the sound and put the TV on mute, climbing off of the bed. She lifted a small ice pick she'd been carrying off of the top of the TV and let it fall to her side casually as she went to see who it was.

When the door finally swung open Spike was standing in the hallway with his hands in his pockets, looking down and pretending to be entranced by the garish purple and yellow Donald Duck carpeting. He glanced up when he heard the knob turn to see Faith leaning on the door frame, backlit by the last of the burning sky now that the sun was gone. When she realized who it was she smiled at him - just smiled.

**Present Day - The Greene Farm, Georgia**

That smile lingered in Spike's mind until a bump against his boot brought him crashing back to reality. Plate and mouth full of peanut butter cookies, Spike sat on Hershel's couch, an eyesore of goth punk vampire in stark contrast to the old fashioned country home. He finally picked his feet up as Beth caught crumbs with the push sweeper for the umpteenth time while she tried to tidy up so that Patricia wouldn't have to.

Spike sighed at having been abandon by both Slayers and bit into another cookie, getting a dirty look from Beth as she started walking the sweeper back over to the couch.

Meanwhile Faith and Buffy sat in the back of the open van, sharing a bottle of Sprite. Buffy took a sip and handed the drink back to Faith with a sigh, "So now Rick hates us. _Totally_ **not** my fault, might I add."

Faith took the bottle, cigarette in the same hand, and tipped it back, "Nah, he's just freaked out is all. Gotta give him some breathing room. Besides, think this whole barter thing's gotta get done before we can stroke Earnest's ego." She held the drink out to Buffy who shook her head and make a yuk face.

"Way too hot to be drinking oven-baked Sprite."

Flicking her lit cigarette out into the yard in a way that made Buffy uneasy, "I'm on it." Faith grunted the grunt of an old man as she moved forward to pry open one of the two large red Igloo coolers they had stacked one on top of another. She shoved her hand into the cooler without looking.

Buffy visibly perked up, " _Oooh_ , Pibb me." but her expression fell when she saw the look on Faith's face, "What's wrong?"

"We gotta make an ice run." She handed Buffy a sopping wet bottle of Mr. Pibb and grimaced, sitting back and kicking the cooler, which made a swish and rattle sound, " _Shit_."

"Oh… " Buffy looked at the Pibb with a little superficial dismay then her eyes went wide when she realized what it meant, " _Oh_! God, Faith! Grab the top one, we have to get that water out of there!"

Faith was already hauling the top cooler off of the bottom by the uncomfortable plastic handles. She handed one side to Buffy who took it and carefully backed out of the van. The two of them trudged one cooler and then the other over to the water pump to empty the melted ice via the drain spouts in a place where the water wouldn't get in anyone's way.

Buffy opened one of the coolers and inspected the contents. She made a face and opened the other cooler, grabbing one of the handles. Faith didn't have to hear the order to help, she grabbed the other side of the cooler and they dumped what was left of the ice along with sodas, lunch meat and bagged salad into the first cooler and nearly filled it up, "Well, it's something at least."

"The _fuck_ it is." Faith huffed, picking up the empty cooler, "B, we don't get more and it's not us who's gonna pay out the ass. Don't got much left as it is, really not lovin' it's odds in the heat without ice."

Hands moving to her hips Buffy looked over the cooler situation and shrugged, "Hershel's got a generator - maybe he'll barter us a steady stream of ice until we head upstate?"

Faith sighed and grabbed the closest end of the full cooler, "Won't kill to ask, I guess." When Buffy took up her side of the cooler they made their way back to the van and pushed them both back into place, this time side by side. Faith sat up on one of the coolers and picked her warm Sprite up, "Could use weapons, too. Stakes aren't getting it done with those lame brains and we don't got the big guns with us."

Nodding, Buffy took a paper towel off of a roll that was stuck in a pocket on the back of the passenger's side seat. She dried off her soda, "I'll go in and see if I can wrangle some paper to make a list. You gonna be okay out here?"

"Without Dummy takin' up all my room?" Faith arched a brow, her head sinking back into her neck in that way she thought made her look gangsta, " _Go._ Do. Gives me a chance to veg."

Sighing, Buffy rolled her eyes at the choice of words and headed into the house. Faith reached into the mess of items in the back of the van and pulled out a baseball cap they'd found with a small haul of clothes from one of the abandon stores in Ohio. She sat next to one of the coolers, her back against the other and tossed the hat onto the van's floor in front of her, upside down. She started to pat her pockets down when she noticed Spike's deck of cards clipped to the passenger's visor.

Faith grimaced with the prospect of having to get up and do something herself when she saw Carl walking buy and formed a little plan to stay lazy, "Hey, kid. Uh.. _Carl_."

Carl slowed on his way back into the house then stopped and looked around to make sure she was talking to him, "Yeah?"

She leaned a little out of the van and pointed at the cards, "See those cards? Think you can get em for me?"

Carl followed Faith's arm to the passenger seat and looked back warily, "I don't think I'm supposed to…"

Leaning back against the cooler Faith shrugged and made a grunting noise, "No problem, didn't figure you were tall enough, anyway."

What Faith was implying made Carl's brows knit together and he marched over to the door. He didn't see Faith's smirk as he tore the door open, stormed into the seat and pulled the cards off the visor. He climbed down, shut the door and handed them to her with a cocky smile.

Faith raised a brow and took the cards, "Thanks, kid. You need somethin', let me know, I owe you big." She pulled open the pack of cards and slipped one off the top with her thumb, moving it around until it was between her index and middle fingers. Carl watched her with interest as she gave the card a toss. The interest turned intense when the card spun softly out of her hand and landed right in the baseball cap.

Carl leaned on the frame of the open door with both hands, "Where did you learn to do that?"

Faith glanced up, having been unaware that he was still there. She decided to leave out all of her solitary confinement and shrugged, "Practice. Lotta practice."

"Can I try?" Carl asked and Faith gave him a look, "I promise I won't drop any." She didn't see the harm in it and pulled a few cards off of the deck, handing them to the boy. He grinned a tiny grin and got ready, his eyes zeroing in on the hat.

He tossed a card a little too hard and it missed the hat by a foot and landed somewhere under the driver's seat. Faith took a card out of the deck wordlessly and held it up, showing him the hold, then tossed hers and it hit it's target again. Determined, Carl held his up the way he'd seen Faith do it and gave the card a more gentle toss, this time it landed in the hat and a big smile broke out on his face, "Yes!"

Faith returned his smile and pushed his hat down in front of his face playfully, "Bulls eye, kid, you're a natural. Keep going." She took a sip of her Sprite, waiting for the next card to fall into the hat when she noticed how the boy was staring at her drink. Figuring it must have been awhile since he had any empty calories, Faith gave him a pat on the back then opened the cooler next to her and pulled out a liter bottle of Goose Island orange soda then pushed it into his hands.

"Is… all this for me?" Carl asked, eyes wide, not sure if he should take the gift.

"Yeah, got two flats of em back here. Pretty good stuff, real sugar. You want another? Don't be shy, gotta make some room in the van anyway." Faith started, taking a swig of her drink, "You like _SPAM_?"

"Well. Actually…" Carl looked up at Faith, "I still have twenty dollars from my birthday … Buffy told my dad you had batteries? I have this…" Carl pulled a small Dreamcast from behind him that had been stuffed in his back pocket and showed it to Faith, pointing to where the batteries go, "If you have this kind of batteries, I can pay you."

Faith looked over the game, trying to find the battery type then handed it back to Carl. She climbed over all the crap in the back of the van and started going through a hobo bag that was filled with small odds and ends. Carl watched as she made her way back with a battery that looked like it belonged in a large watch.

She opened the back of the game and fit the battery then turned it over again. The game started up with a little Sega fanfare and she handed it to Carl, "Call us even, okay? Got a couple, like I said. Don't be shy."

Carl smiled at Faith and started to run off, then trotted back to get his soda, "Thanks Faith!" With that he was gone, back into the house for damn change. Faith shot him a smile as he went then sighed and heaved herself out of the van. It was getting late, _time to make a deal._


	11. Shameful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but necessary chapter - unfortunately wrote this while I was half asleep, so I will be proofing it later. Sorry!

It was after dark when the Scoobies found themselves standing with representatives of each survivor group in Hershel's kitchen as the man went over supply barter lists with Rick and Buffy. Though the room wasn't crowded, Spike and Faith stood with their arms folded and shoulder to shoulder as they always did when something big went down. Andrea and Shane conspired by the kitchen door while Maggie and Beth stood near the sink with Patricia, who'd finally made an appearance but looked emotionally worse for wear.

The day had been long and hard on everyone and the unfortunate side effect of Patricia's breakdown was a heightened, thick tension in the air that stifled everyone on the farm with the heavy feeling that any little spark could ignite something awful between the groups.

Buffy's fingertips slowly slid down the list on the table that Rick and Hershel had made up then stopped on flour, "We're out, but we can probably get some. All we have that even _kind_ of resembles flour is a bag of crackers."

Just a few feet away in the living room Glenn paced and waited, Jimmy watching him flick around the room. He finally put his hands up to halt Glenn, "Would you hold still?" He sighed, "You're making me nervous!"

Glenn glanced back at Jimmy with a silent apology and a nod then sank into a nearby chair. After a long pause he spoke up, "You've known Maggie longer than I have… she wouldn't _hit_ Faith while I'm out of the room, would she?" He shook his head, "No… no, she wouldn't… _probably_." He started to look woozy, and sick to his stomach at the thought, "I don't feel so great…"

Outside Lori and Carol tended to the group's fire and dinner, and T-Dog sat with Dale on top of the RV. Dale was laughing at T-Dog, who was doing what he remembered of the hand gestures Faith had used, while recounting the chainsaw story as they held watch. Daryl stayed uncharacteristically close to the main camp, leaning against the RV with his arms crossed, eyes moving from the camp fire to the tree line and back. Now and then his gaze would purposely find and linger on Carol but it was always busy somewhere else when her own eyes found him.

Poking at the fire, Lori shot an uneasy eye to the spots Daryl was looking, unsure of how to react to his being so protectively close having not expressed any reason for it. She sighed and said under her breath, "What could be taking so long?"

"I wouldn't trust those women around Rick." Carol shook her head as she worked, "Or at all. There's something… _off_ about them."

"That brunette sure has been getting around." Snarked Lori with a small smirk, sitting on a folding chair, settling in to stare at the fire. She didn't notice the forlorn look Carol was giving her, or the squint that bore into the back of her head coming from Daryl's direction., and she had no idea how much worse she'd just made the situation.

Carol didn't find Lori's remark amusing and made a disgruntled little _grr_ sound. She turned some kind of small animal carcass over in a cast iron pan on the fire with a metal barbeque fork, whispering to Lori to keep the men from hearing her, " _Shameful_. It's just _shameful_." Her voice must have carried because Daryl's already foul mood took a decided turn South and he used that exact moment to make a grumpy retreat back to his own campfire. She instinctively turned back to glance over her shoulder just in time to watch him disappear into the darkness and she sighed, "I hope you're watching your son. I saw him playing cards with Faith this afternoon."

"Carl?" Lori looked up at her, her hands already busy preparing a welcome bags of fresh salad that Buffy had given her a few hours earlier, "I don't think they're going to hurt him, do you?" She was exhausted with Carol's almost mindless need to talk about these people, "He spends so much time in that house, I'm grateful that he has someone to talk to. I don't know what to think about the whole thing. What happened with Patricia was obviously a misunderstanding…"

"I _know_." Sighed Carol as she brushed her forehead with the back of her arm, "I know it was." Exhausted, more emotionally than physically, she sat back on the stump she was using as a chair, staring at the porch light, "And I guess I don't think they're bad people but… I really think there's something they're not telling us."

Lori glanced up at Carol, having a good idea of where this was really coming from, "Carol, I don't think..." She started but was cut off.

"It scares me, Lori." There was a serious tone to Carol's whisper, an urgency, "They fought walkers on the highway, Rick and Daryl saw them. They don't have a _scratch_ on them. Not a _scratch_."

"Rick and Daryl - who wouldn't be alive if it weren't for Buffy and Faith. I understand it's easy to be..." She almost said 'paranoid', but the word was caught in her throat. Slowly Lori looked back at the house, "Come to think of it I haven't seen any bruises on them, either... But they could just be lucky? Or skilled? Rick said they were _skilled_?"

"Hmm. Maybe. I just know," Carol stood slowly, handing the barbecue fork over to Lori, "That I'm going to feel a lot better when they've packed up."

While dinner was cooking Carl was sitting in the extra bedroom playing his video game. He immersed himself in the sounds and light, trying to get back into the habit of button pressing and quick reflexes. He was so busy having fun that he didn't notice the bickering in the house until the likely second-hand battery he'd been given fizzled and his game shut off.

He held the power button down, hoping the game would reset, but it didn't. Turning the game over, Carl peeled back the black tape Shane had used to keep the battery compartment sealed and prodded the battery, trying to determine whether or not it had burst. It hadn't. He tried taking out the battery and blowing on it, a technique which Beth seemed to put a lot of faith in. He popped the battery back into his game and tried the power button - nothing. He sighed and sat quietly for a few minutes, remembering what Faith had said about not being shy if he needed another battery. He picked his game back up, then put his hat on and headed out of the room.

As usual, no one was paying attention when Carl walked right passed Glenn and Jimmy, through the screen door and off of the porch. He wandered in the dark to where Buffy and her friends had parked their van for the night and slid the door open as quietly as possible, grateful when the interior light switched on.

He climbed into the van and started picking through the contents of the group's supplies. He found several purses, the first of which resembled a black doctor's bag and it took him several tries to open it. He tilted the bag to see the inside better in the light and found holy water and crosses. Carl lifted a stake into his hand, "Cool..." but it wasn't what he was looking for and soon he was back to searching.

This went on for several minutes and several bags until he found the odds and ends bag Faith had looked in to find the battery to begin with. It was nearly full to the top with all sorts of things that were hastily grabbed from Wal-Mart shelves across the country, like batteries, pillow cases and an unusually high number of wind-up alarm clocks. The batteries were stored well, in Rubbermaid containers according to their size and type, and it wasn't long until he had found another battery. He smiled and fit it into his game and was about to leave when he saw the coolers and remembered that Faith's offer extended to the bottled soda they had to get rid of. He pushed one and it slid too easily - empty. The second one was harder to push and sloshed. Carl smiled and opened the lid, but the way the cooler was situated the lid cast a shadow on the contents.

Carl reached in, his hand looking around for a bottle when it came across a bag of something squishy and cold. He lifted it out of the cooler then dropped it, terrified. He scrambled back and fell out of the van, managing to spill the contents of the cooler inside and outside the vehicle. The lid's shadow unable to hide it now, Carl was able to see the gory contents of the cooler and he got to his feet and took off for his camp, leaving the van light on and the ground littered with blood transfusion bags _._


	12. It Starts

"Just ice?" Rick sounded surprised at the Slayers request, looking over their short barter list, "I don't even know if we can make any." He looked to Hershel for help with this particular item, having no access himself to the generator or any freezers.

"And weapons." Faith chimed in, now sitting on the counter with Spike leaning back against her, her knees on either side of his torso. She was resting her shoulder blades against a low-hanging cabinet, arms folded behind her head with a bored expression on her face. This was taking way too long.

At this point they were the only ones left in the kitchen - Faith and Spike lining the counter, Hershel and Rick pouring over lists with Buffy. The Greene girls had long since gone to bed and Andrea had watch duty. Shane had only stayed long enough to give a cocky, knowing look to Spike before he took off for the night, too. Spike had wondered what the look was all about but when Faith had offered to let him use her body as a pillow, he quickly forgot the perpetually angry cowboy in favor of getting some touch from his 'not-honey'.

"Well, I can see that." Hershel motioned to the mention of weapons on the page, "But ice and weapons are an odd mix. You'll need more than that if you're going to have any chance of survival on the road."

"We'll live," Spike pursed up his lips smugly, a bit annoyed with the way Hershel was talking, "Always do." He shot Faith a smirk over his shoulder then looked back at the group. Faith shook her head at Spike and rolled her eyes, giving him a shove at the shoulders to tell him she wanted off the counter.

With a little extra attitude Spike begrudgingly moved out of the way and let Faith slide back onto her feet. She cracked her neck and yawned, "Tell me we're done, dude, I got a week of sleep to catch up on." She stretched her back by rocking one shoulder forward and then the other. Faith let another yawn out and opened the cupboard, knowing just where to reach to find the plaid thermos, then she screwed the lid off and took the steel percolator off the stove. She finished the pot of coffee into it then closed the thermos up. When she was through she turned around and leaned back on the counter, trying for patient.

"Soon," Buffy sighed, aggravated and exhausted, "I promise." She rested her chin in her hands, leaning forward with her elbows on the counter next to the lists.

Faith watched for only a few more seconds, becoming more and more restless. She finally snapped, "Screw _this_ ," she sneered, already heading for the door, "Spike's gotta eat." Spike looked surprised by the gesture but took it and followed his Slayer out into the living room leaving an angry Buffy to watch them go out of the corner of her eye.

"You didn't have to do that," Spike mumbled, unable to hide a small smile, "She's going to be a raging bitch now." He held the screen door open for Faith, who merely mumbled an ' _Uh huh._ ' and Spike continued, "So. What should we do with the rest of our…" but by the time he finished the word 'we' Faith was already gone, headed out into the evening towards a familiar campfire in the distance.

Spike bit the inside of his cheek and grunted, pulling the door shut behind him. He watched Faith as he walked down the porch steps, cursing at himself under his breath for not grabbing her arm or hitting her over the head with a club and dragging her back to the van. He was so busy watching Faith that he almost didn't stop in time to keep from plowing into another person in the dark.

Shane, who had been headed away from the group of parked cars, gave Spike another one of his patented pissy little girl glares then walked around him and off towards camp. Spike's brow furrowed and he tilted his head slightly as he watched the other man go.

He'd caught a lot of odd and angry looks from Shane over the last two days but this one was different. For some reason it almost struck Spike as dangerous and he glanced back at the house for a moment. He shrugged and headed in the general direction of their van.

Across the yard Daryl was sitting on the ground with his back and arm resting against the log he occasionally used as a chair, chewing on a stalk of thistle and staring into the campfire when he heard a rustling in the darkness outside the fire light. He sat up a little straighter, hand slowly moving to the crossbow that had been leaning against his bag but he stopped short.

It wasn't the cigarette smoke that gave it away, Daryl's camp had been filled with that smell all day, but when the wind caught a faint hint of jasmine it was clear who was standing outside of his camp. He didn't relax but slowly put the crossbow back in it's place, "Whadda you _want_?" he grumped, acknowledging her right to enter with a jerk of his head.

"To die in my sleep at an obscenely old age." Daryl could hear the smirk in her voice and a thermos came flying towards him out of the din, which he barely caught before it hit him in the chest. He wasn't surprised to see the smirk still on Faith's face as she stepped into his camp and was softly illuminated by the fire, "What do y'think are the odds I'll get it?"

Daryl just raised the thermos a bit to say thanks and Faith parked it on the ground again, leaning back on her hands. She closed her eyes, weary but not exactly tired and sighed out a yawn.

At first Daryl watched Faith interestedly, wondering if she would move into his space again and quietly making plans in case she did - plans that involved weapons. But she didn't move, she didn't flinch. She looked completely relaxed taking in the fire and eventually he relaxed some, too. They fell into a comfortable silence for as long as silences ever last before Daryl piped up, "You mean to take her?"

"Hmm?" Faith opened one eye, a bit annoyed that she had to answer questions instead of chill out like she'd planned, "What?" She opened the other eye and slowly sat up, giving him her attention in hopes he'd just get on with whatever it was he was making little Daryl noises about.

Daryl shrugged, still staring blindly into the fire, one hand moved up to hold onto the thistle with his index and middle finger, "Patricia. Way Rick tells it she damn near threw herself at your feet."

"Not mine." Faith made a face and closed her eyes again, trying to tune Daryl out and get back some of the peace from a few moments before, "But yeah, I guess if she wants to go. Shit, dude, she's old enough to make her _own choices_ , right?"

Pulling the thistle out of his mouth and flicking it aside, Daryl nodded in agreement and let Faith have her quiet.


	13. The Trade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter, but I ended up cutting a lot of stuff that seemed to break the flow. Trying to get back into the writing habit!

Spike was looking down at what he could see of his own body in the dark, patting his pockets down for his cigarettes as he approached the van. He tried to wring all thoughts of Faith out of his mind, hoping to put aside his intense need to bite the shit out of Daryl long enough to get something to eat and a little needed sleep before another day in He-Haw. He finally found them in his duster, his lighter following from the front-left pocket of his jeans, " _There_ you are..." he mumbled to himself, pulling a cigarette out and gratefully putting it to his lips.

He flicked the lighter open in one hand and moved the flame up to his cigarette, finally looking up in front of him. Slowly, Spike dropped lighter a few inches, stopping to stare at the sight of their pillaged van and the spilled coolers, "Bloody _hell_ …"

Back at the house Buffy was weary from the events of the day and waiting as patiently as she could manage for Rick and Hershel to finalize the barter lists. She had her arms folded on the counter and her head buried in them, on the verge of sleep when she heard the door open and lifted her eyes in time to see Lori poke her head in.

"We interrupting anything?" She asked softly, Carl standing cautiously behind her in the kitchen doorway.

Rick just shook his head, "Almost done. Just got to finalize some things." He licked his bottom lip and crossed something out on a list with Buffy's Hello Kitty pencil, "That's batteries, three kinds. A count of four bags of sugar, seven pounds each. Two crates of SPAM, fifteen deodorant sticks, three body wash with micro beads, six chap stick, two peach lip gloss, six tubs of body butter - whatever that is. Twelve scarves, twelve pair of gloves and…" He pulled a strip of crumpled paper out of his pocket and looked it over, then proceeded to write it's contents onto the list, "A can of cheese wiz."

"Daryl?" Buffy asked with a sleepy smirk. She stretched her arms out in front of her and yawned.

Rick glanced up at her, the same smirk on his face, "Daryl." He looked over the list one more time, then Buffy's list, "Ice, weapons." he shook his head, "Can't help but see this as charity."

" _Believe_ me," Buffy sighed, hopping up to sit on the counter where Faith had sat earlier, "We need it. It's a super trade for us if we can get a few axes or something. Hammers, maybe?"

"Hammers we have. Axes, I don't know about. They've been so hard to come by and our trips into town find the stores over turned and scavenged a little worse every time. I hate to say it, but we may need to start sending expeditions into bigger cities for the things we need." Folding the lists, Hershel slid them into a drawer, responding to Buffy's earlier statement, "I think he means that ice. I don't know if we can provide fifteen pounds of ice every two days, but we can surly try and it's a trade that favors our groups. I just don't want to see you end up practically giving away your goods for something with so little value."

Buffy shrugged a little and yawned, "Needed and appreciated. Can't risk letting the cooler's defrost, it was hard enough getting Spike _this_ blood, I don't love the idea of trying to find a new hospital and brand new blood." The air seemed to be suddenly sucked out of the room and Buffy glanced up after a few moments of silence to see the others staring at her.

"Spike's blood?" Hershel asked under his breath, moving around to stand near Lori and Carl, closer to Buffy's line of sight.

At the same time Rick walked around the other side of the counter to stand practically in front of Buffy, hands planted on his hips, "You did just say blood, right? I'm not hearing things?"

Buffy glanced around at the group with mild, tired disbelief, "And all the sodas. Have you ever tried to drink a room temperature Sprite when the room is 90 degrees? _Bleugh…_ " She stuck her tongue out and made a yucky face, "Plus I'd like to be able to keep some of that salad, that was harder to get than I thought it would be."

"Hold on," Rick said, suddenly serious. He took one hand off of his hip and placed it on the counter next to Buffy, leaning forward, "Why does Spike need blood?"

There was a long, strained pause while the group waited to hear from Buffy, who's confused expression wasn't making the situation any better. Out of nowhere Carl's matter-of-fact voice broke the silence, "He's a vampire."


	14. The Reveal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another very, very short chapter as will be the next few because I don't want to confuse people by switching scenes more than once in a chapter. For those confused by the last chapter, the set up for that is in chapter 6 - it's not hard to find, if you read between the lines!

"You don't think it's weird that she's spending so much time with him?" Andrea asked, opening up a travel mug to the welcome aroma of real, fresh coffee, "Don't get me wrong, he's a lot less trouble when he's making time with her, but it just strikes me as odd. Isn't this the same Daryl that hates everybody?"

"Guess you ain't talked to this one, yet? Bitch is pushy as hell. Don't know as he has much choice in the matter." Shane couldn't stop smirking to save his life as he and Andrea walked the fence line and he tipped back a bottle of water, swallowing hard, "Looks to _me_ like there's about to be a tussle." He moved his eyes away from scanning the field and trees to glance back towards the miniature camp on the outskirts of Hershel's farm and the people silhouetted against the bright orange fire.

"With the blond guy?" She tutted and shook her head. She took a sip of her coffee and kept watch while Shane's eyes drifted away, "Wouldn't mind seeing someone kick _his_ ass a few times. He just rubs me the wrong way."

"You're gonna get a front row seat." He mused, "One way or another, those three keep pushin' folks and _somebody_ 's gonna snap."

"That right?" A voice behind Andrea and Shane made their stroll slow and stop. One at a time they turned to see Spike swagger out of the shadow of a tree into the moonlight, a hand resting on his belt and the other plucking a lit cigarette out of his mouth, " _Well_ , then. No time like the present." Spike smirked and rolled one of his shoulders, "Don't want to keep the lady waiting."

* * *

"He's a vampire," Carl repeated, not seeming as phased as he had been earlier, as if putting two and two together had made sense of the situation enough to remove most of his fear, "Right?"

Buffy's brow raised and she looked at the adults, "You… didn't know?" She squinted then sighed, berating herself out loud as one hand massaged the forming migraine in her forehead, " _Because we didn't tell you_ … ugh, okay, this is _totally_ my bad…"

"Spike… is a _vampire_?" Rick nearly shouted and Hershel put up a hand to quiet him down. It didn't stop his fuming and he glared at Buffy angrily, "He's a vampire, and you just _forgot_ to say anything?"

" _Yes_ , he's a vampire and _yes_ I forgot to do the explaining thing, for which I apologized… wait, I did apologize, right?" Buffy sighed, the massage had moved to her temples, "Look, I thought you knew. Everything happened so fast… I swear I _meant_ to... "

"You meant to. Is that supposed to make us feel better?" Rick countered angrily and Buffy tried not to roll her eyes.

"I think I'm just so used to people just _knowing_ … I mean, Spike's… _Spike_. It's _obvious_. We _never_ have to bring it up, someone always asks in the first _ten minutes_ …" she shook her head, trying for calm and collected, "I'm sorry. I realize this is a lot to take in…"

"A lot to take in!" Lori clung to Carl, not having the presence of mind to keep her voice down, "Help me... help me understand why you would even be traveling with that…. _thing_!"

Buffy looked to Herschel after Lori's outburst. If any part of her was hoping for his help, it would have been disappointed at the way he weakly shook his head, "The one grace vampires possess over Walkers - they're kept out of the sanctuary of human beings. God saw fit to protect us where we sleep…" He lifted his eyes to Buffy, furious, "You let me invite that _monster_ into my home. With my daughters right upstairs."

"Will you just listen?" Buffy sighed, frustrated trying to continue to her point, "Spike's not thing - and he's not a threat, not to any of us. Yes, he's a _vampire_ , but there's something you don't understand."

A quiet hiss shushed the room, " _What_?" Now standing in the doorway, Glenn stared at the room in disbelief, "Spike's a vampire? Like in a real life, from the news vampire? That _eats people_?" He saw the question in Rick's eyes and sighed, "You woke up half the camp, but now that I hear the topic, I guess all the yelling kinda makes sense."

"It's alright, they're leaving. _Tonight_." Rick hissed a breath out through his nose like an angry bull and looked back at Buffy, "Ain't that right?"


	15. The Walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another somewhat short chapter, finally getting deeper into the Faith & Daryl stuff. Pardon the dust here, I'm sure there's one heck of a mess (typos, etc.) but as I have been with the past few chapters, I'm only finding time to write after work and end up posting these things in the wee hours of the morning when I'm about to crash - they *will* be revised when I get time, but for now - bless this mess!

" _Stay_?" Faith shrugged, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans as she slowly walked the brightly moonlit yard towards the house, "Who the hell would _wanna_ stay here? No offense." Daryl kept in step with Faith, only huffing a soft laugh at her remark and she continued, voice filled to the brim with sarcasm, "Not really lookin' to break up your _happy little_ family, anyway. Not my decision."

A grunt was Daryl's only response and she was grateful for the pause in the string of long, outdrawn questions as they strolled in silence for a few moments. She understood that even Daryl was concerned about Patricia but when this guy finally got to talking, shutting him up took too long for her taste and she was mulling over the idea that wasting time with him might be more effort than she was willing to put in. Faith reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of Marlboro and a generic blue BIC.

"What the _fuck_ ," Daryl grabbed Faith's wrist and lifted the pack up, unable to hide a small smile as he snarled at her, "Just gonna hold out on me, huh?"

Smirking, she tore her wrist away with playful dramatics and switched the cigarettes to her other hand, "Screw you, dude, smoke up them Camels." She held it out to her side, away from Daryl's immediate reach, and teased the hell out of him, "You get the good shit when I get _paid_."

Making a face Daryl reached around Faith easily and the pack was swiped out of her hand and yanked back. It was quick enough to make Faith twist in a way that suggested she would have spun if she were any less agile, "The _hell_ ," He held up the pack and squinted, looking in through the top with one eye to make a count of it's contents, "World's gone, Woman. Money ain't worth shit." He started pulling a cigarette out and Faith stopped in front of him abruptly, causing him to nearly run into her.

She took the bottom of the pack and yanked it out of his hand, leaving him with only the cigarette he had been holding onto. She casually shoved the pack into her pocket then raised the BIC and lit her own cigarette. She was suddenly all business, serious and way too close, "Guess you're gonna hafta find _some other_ way to pay me."

Daryl's brow creased and he watched Faith glance back at him as she trotted up the porch steps and disappeared into the shadow cast by the eave. It took him a long few moments to finally follow after her, taking the steps two at a time.

He found himself narrowing his eyes, trying to force them to adjust to the darkness while using the orange glow of her cigarette to find her. When things finally began to clear up and sharpen he could see that she was staring back at him, and not looking all that patient. He took a few slow steps towards her, unsure of what was suddenly going on.

She waited, wordlessly, until they were close enough to make out each other's features. Faith let Daryl twist in the wind as the moment and closeness lingered between them and then, as if she had planned to mess with his head, pushed off the wall and started for the front door. Daryl grimaced and took a few long strides to catch up with her grabbing her arm. He pulled her back and, in one motion, nearly pinned her to the wall.

Without a smirk or any smart assery, Faith simply stared up at Daryl and waited for him to finish what he was starting. The two of them locked eyes, neither of them willing to make the next move as if the one to make it might end up the butt of a joke later on. Stubbornly, they practically stared holes into one another's heads for what seemed like forever before Daryl pulled his hand up, Marlboro now to his lips. He touched the tip of his cigarette to hers and pulled in two or three slow, short drags.

Faith leaned back on the house and took her cigarette out of her mouth. She let that hand fall to her side and tapped the embers out on the siding next to her hip, her other arm folding behind her to act as a pillow for her head. She watched Daryl look down at the cigarette in his hand then up to meet her eyes again.

He put a hand out to brace himself on the wall, hovering over her, invading her space. When he finally spoke it was quiet, but firm, and he was close enough for Faith to feel his breath, "Better get inside."

"Yeah, right." It was hard to see Faith's smirk in the dark, the one that plastered her face with a look that said she was pleased as hell with herself. She reached up with her free hand to grab a fistfull of Daryl's collar, and was pleasantly surprised when he used it as a cue to lean closer, "Gotta pack it in. Got this feelin' there's gonna be a shit storm tomorrow. Big freak out with _Rick_ freaking out over _Trish_ 's freak out. Get B outta negotiations, get some sleep. You know the drill." He just nodded, eyes not leaving hers. But Faith was impatient and gave his collar a gentle tug, pulling him forward another inch. He took the hint and leaned in to close the gap between them when they were both shocked out of the moment by boots stomping up the porch.

He swore to himself a tiny, frustrated cuss, stepping away as Faith looked up to see Andrea making a quick bee-line for the front door but Daryl's voice stopped her, "Where's the fire?"

Andrea looked startled, having not seen anyone on the porch thanks to the contrast between the full moon and the shadows they stood in. She recognized Daryl's voice, but the other figure was so shrouded they were hard to make out. She squinted to get a better look then kind of rolled her eyes when she saw who was leaning against the house. She spoke directly to Faith, agitated, "Good, maybe you can go talk some sense into Spike before Shane breaks every bone in his body."

" _What_?" Faith's brow furrowed and she slowly stepped closer to Andrea, "Where?"

With a loud, weary sigh, Andrea motioned with her forehead back the way she had just come, "Out by the pasture gate."

" _D-man_ ," Faith side-lined to Daryl, seriously, "Grab Buffy. That barter shit can wait." Trying to put the last few minutes out of his mind, Daryl nodded and headed for the door.

"Meet me out there." She skirted around Andrea without another word and dashed off across the lawn _._


	16. The Brawl

By the time Andrea and Daryl walked into the house the argument had died down from a scream fest to an awkward planning stage. Hershel had gone upstairs and left Buffy in the kitchen with Glenn and the Grimes. Buffy was re-folding Rick's travel map and handing it back to him, "We can head West on 20. We were on our way to Lithia when we sidetracked. It's abandon but not exactly overrun yet, we can stop for supplies."

There was something in Rick's manner that said he was holding something back and he took the map from Buffy, glancing down at it, "Someone can see you up as far as the highway." He gave the map another fold so that it was small enough to fit comfortably when he shoved it into his back pocket, "We don't know it's any quieter up there."

"I _really_ don't think that's such a great idea," There was a quiet, exhausted sigh in Buffy's voice as she rested her weight on her hip and against counter, folding her arms, "We can get through a lot easier with one van than a wagon train. I'll feel better if we don't have to worry about whether or not you made it back to the farm."

"If you're leaving," Andrea interjected, alerting them to her presence, "You might want to make a pitstop at the gate and stop Shane from beating your friend into a bloody pulp."

Buffy straightened, her brow furrowing, Andrea now the focus of her attention, " _Huh_?"

"Spike," Finally entering the kitchen, Daryl clarified for Buffy's sake, "Some brawl down by the fence."

"Oh… _oh_ geeze," Glenn's expression slowly warped from glum to decidedly fearful, "Somebody's gotta warn him," He saw the confusion on Andrea and Daryl's faces and started for the kitchen door, side-stepping them to get out of the room, stating with urgency, " _Spike's a vampire_ …"

"What?" Andrea and Daryl both turned to watch Glenn bound through the house and out the door. She looked back to the others in the kitchen, having a hard time grasping what she'd just heard, "Did he say Spike's a _vampire_?"

Buffy sighed, exhaustedly, tired of hearing herself say this after spending the better part of an hour trying to explain it and was grateful when Rick said it for her, "He has a soul, or so I'm told."

"If there's a fight, why isn't somebody out there trying to break it up?" Lori asked quietly, clutching to her son and trying to keep her voice down for the sake of the people sleeping upstairs, "Can't just let that happen…"

"Taken care of," Daryl was calm compared to the rest of the room occupants. In fact, he didn't seem particularly surprised by the news in a way that immediately got Buffy's interest, "Faith's out there, said to get you." He continued, nodding towards the door.

"… _What_?" Buffy almost whispered, a hand reaching out and grabbing her jacket - an oddity that the newcomers all seemed to wear, rain or shine, in spite of the heat, - that had laid neatly on the counter while she and the other group leaders were doing business. She was giving her full focus to Daryl, horrified and already walking for the kitchen door, "Oh god…" she took to a jog in the direction Glenn had gone earlier, just as quickly as he had left, but Daryl grabbed her arm as she sped by and she whipped around to look at him, answering a question he didn't have to ask, "It's not Spike I'm worried about." She wrenched her arm away and made a break for the door.

Andrea and Daryl watched Buffy go, momentarily stunned. They were both shocked out of their daze by a muffled swear from behind them but didn't have time to turn back as Rick was already pushing his way past them both to get into the dining room. Daryl was already on his heels by the time Rick made it across the living room and onto the porch, both men practically side by side as they wordlessly raced after Buffy towards the sound of Faith's voice.

Back in the kitchen Lori knelt down to Carl's level and took him by the shoulders, giving him a serious look, "Baby, I need you to go upstairs and get Hershel, tell him to bring a gun and then I want you to lock yourself in that spare room. Can you do that?"

"Got a gun," Andrea gripped Lori's shoulder for a moment to get her attention on the way out of the kitchen, "Meet you out there." Lori barely nodded and Andrea didn't linger. Her gun was out and she was tailing the rest of the group before Lori could verbally respond.

"But I can help," Carl responded levelly, as if he'd already rationalized the danger to himself, "Faith's my friend, I want to go…"

" _No_." Tense now, Lori clipped the end of Carl's request and shook her head, "You go upstairs right now, get Hershel, do you hear me?"

Disappointed but unable to think around the look of fear in his mothers eyes, Carl simply nodded and Lori kissed his forehead harder than she meant to. She got to her feet and started for the door when she heard her son call to her, "Dad's not gonna hurt them, is he?" He stared into his mother's back for a few moments then she glanced back, almost guiltily, and rushed off after Andrea.

Carl hurried to follow his mother to the door, where he stood watching her fly down the porch steps and sprint across the yard to catch up with the others. It wasn't hard to see the fight the way the electric light of the moon intensified the landscape, but he couldn't tell who was who, or anything beyond the fierce movements that accompanied the sounds of muffled yelling and thrashing. He stepped back inside and looked up the staircase, remembering what his mother had told him before she left.

Without thinking twice Carl bounded up the stairs and went immediately to knock on Hershel's door _._


	17. The Vampire

Glenn made it to the scene first, finding Faith pushing Spike back at the shoulders, glaring over her own shoulder at Shane. Spike was grinning like a gargoyle and teasing his weight against her hands as if he might bolt at any minute. She spoke to Spike in a soft but not very calm voice, gritting her teeth from the pressure he'd been putting on her since she managed to pry the two hot heads apart, "Just cool down, okay? There's already enough crap going on with the Mayberry folk without you rilin' up their freaking leader.."

" _Well_ ," Spike weaved a bit to Faith's side, tongue lolling out of the fangy smile plastered across his face. He allowed her to rush in front of him again and keep him away from his target. His eyes trained on Shane and everything from his expression to his stance said something bad was about to happen, "I guess I better behave myself, then." There was a breezy dose of sarcasm in his voice, "Don't want to give the poor kiddies _nightmares_."

"Let em go, see what a tough guy he is without the wife holding him back." Shane wiped his forehead with his wrist, lip already bleeding from whatever had happened before Faith's appearance, "Put my foot so far up his ass, sock'll wipe that smile right off his face."

"You," Faith pointed back at Shane, glaring a warning at him, while the rest of her tried to keep Spike in check. "Shut the fuck up."

Spike tried to dodge Faith and respond physically to Shane's slight but she'd had enough of his crap for one night and casually elbowed him in the mouth, "Are you _deef_? I said _knock_ it," She backhanded Spike and sent him reeling back away from her," _ **Off**_ _._ "

Irritated, Spike put his hands up a little too high, taking a step back beneath a fence hugging tree and sucking his cheeks in a bit. He waited for Faith to ease up then rubbed at his jaw, "Wasn't going to do any real damage, Love. Just bloody a few things, pay back for the mess in the van."

Faith pushed her hands into her back pockets, giving Spike a confused look, "The van? Wait, what?" She gave a momentary glance to Buffy and Rick's group as they came dashing across the lawn. They stopped short, one at a time, when they saw the situation had seemed to calm down.

Lori paused behind Rick but accidentally bumped into him as Carl abruptly ran into her in the dark. She glanced down at her son then sighed softly, and put a hand down to sweep him protectively behind her. Hershel was practically on Carl's heels and he immediately but silently aimed a shot gun at Spike.

"Ponce took it upon himself to rifle through our unmentionables." Spike's eyes stayed locked on Shanes and he was seething again and rocking his head back and forth like a boxer cracking his neck joints, "Had himself a real party."

As Spike explained himself Carl slinked back into the dark, huddling closer to his mother and suddenly overwhelmed by guilt as he recalled the state he had left Buffy's van in earlier. Carl didn't want to be the reason everyone was fighting, the reason something awful might happen. He wanted to speak up, but he was terrified and couldn't find his voice. He clung to Lori's jeans, holding back tears.

It was too confusing, and too much to take in for nearly everyone at the scene. Shane's brow's knit together as he tried to make sense of what Spike was saying, "What the hell are you hollering about?"

Rick sighed out his words, trying to calm the situation, "Shane. Somethin' you oughtta know…"

"Yeah?" Shane didn't take his eyes off of Spike, angrier the longer the two exchanged their stare, "What's that?"

"Spike's…" Glenn approached the two men, hoping to break the situation to Shane gently but his plans were cut short.

Smirking, Spike stepped out of the shadows he'd been standing in and into the moonlight as he finished Glenn's sentence, "A vampire…" Scowling, he let his monster face show and rushed Shane.


	18. The News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been away so long, I was hoping to do the bulk of the writing on my laptop and then upload the rest of the fic at once when I had my character arcs and relationships dealt with, and when the story made linear sense on paper instead of just in my head, lol.
> 
> Which would have been a great idea if I were smart and had backed it up before my laptop went kablooey and I lost 30+ chapters (some rewrites of existing chapters, but most of them were new to the story) that I've been writing over the last 8-ish months.
> 
> So, I suck, lol. And I'm hoping to get the laptop fixed, but for the time being I've decided to put up quick re-writes of what I remember then replace them, later, with whatever can be salvaged from Habib (my laptop - don't ask :P ). Because I don't have a PC of my own, I don't have access to Word or the ability to save documents and re-edit them, which means I'll be trying to re-edit problems/add bolding, italics, etc. once the documents are on the web. Sorry about that!
> 
> Chapter Disclaimer: This chapter assumes backstory from characters, backstory that I don't know despite some research. I decided not to over think it, though I'm sure at least the Dixon's whereabouts before the outbreak will be put to rest after Survival Instinct is released. So, yes, disclaimer - all of this is likely wrong! ;)
> 
> On to the fic! More *will* be added to this chapter, I'm trying to post it in pieces via the document manager. Once again, so sorry!

**2 Years Earlier - Dahlonega, Georgia**

Carol took the glass lid off of a cast iron frying pan and stirred the bubbling contents with a spatula. She slowly and carefully flipped over three small Salisbury steaks then added a little more water to the gravy before re-topping it with the lid and calling to her daughter, "Sophia? Turn off the TV and come unload the dish washer.

She continued her cooking for a few moments, adding salt to a pot of boiling potatoes and cleaning scraps off of the counter. She paused and listened for a moment, then sighed when she heard the sounds of yelling and fighting coming from the television. Carol washed her hands then pulled a dish towel off of the oven handle and walked into the living room, drying her hands with it, "Sweetie, are you listening to me? The dish washer was supposed to be emptied and filled right after school, remember?"

In the middle of the living room she stopped, noting the lack of response from her daughter who, to Carol's horror, was sitting in _Ed's chair_ with the remote in her hand. Carol followed Sophia's eyes to the television, where a shaky camera was filming a couple of teenage girls in an abandon street, fighting a vampire in a trench coat with quite a bit of acrobatics. She gave her eyes a bit of a roll and took walked towards the chair, taking the remote out of the girl's hand with a gentle, but evident, yank, " _Sophia_!"

The physical contact and loud, sharp yell broke whatever spell the show had on Sophia and she looked up quickly. Carol folded her arms, dishtowel in one hand and remote in the other, and gave her daughter a stern look, "When was the dish washer supposed to be emptied?" All Sophia could do was look guilty, which made Carol feel guiltier and her demeanor softened, "Come on, you can do it now."

Sophia got up from the chair and Carol gave the television another eye, "What channel is this? You know if your father comes home.." she sighed, heavily this time, and started handing the remote back to Sophia, "Change it back to the news and come on in the kitchen and help me, okay?"

It was quiet for a moment before Sophia spoke up, just looking at the remote instead of taking it, "This _is_ the news."

At Sophia's words, for the first time, Carol turned to give the TV her full attention. The fight in the street now played in a small box in the corner of the screen, filling the space next to a good looking anchor man who was in the middle of the report, "Another witness claims that the fight was actually initiated by one of the young women, who attacked the man as he attempted to leave a local bar 21 and under bar with an unidentified underage girl."

The scene quickly changed to a pretty Mexican girl in a letterman jacket standing in front of the bar in the wee hours of the morning, as well as standing way too close to the camera, "Um, I just think that, you know, if you're gonna troll for high school girls then you're gonna have to expect it. Do I think they killed him? _Hell yeah_ , I think they killed him, I was there! They hit him with a bomb or something, I didn't see it, but he just _exploded_!"

Carol hit the mute button and gave Sophia a gentle hug, stroking her hair and being as firm as she was able to be which would work on Sophia, but not on any other kid her age, "Go on, you have chores." The girl nodded quietly and looked back at the television as she was shooed out of the room. Carol watched Sophia go and the kitchen door close behind her before sinking slowly into the newly vacated chair and turning up the television's volume just enough to hear. She watched intently, her hand slowly moving to cover her mouth.

**Meanwhile, outside Tallahassee, Florida**

Andrea sat in the back seat of a Yellow Cab, rifling through her purse while the cab sat in traffic, "Will you take a check?"

The driver turned the radio down a little and looked at Andrea via his mirror, "No, no, no..." he started in a muddled Jamaican accent, "No checks, Miss. No checks." he pointed at a sign on his dash that read, "CHECKS" with a large red circle around it and a line through it, "Cash or credit cards only, Ma'am."

He continued, but Andrea only caught half of what he was saying. She had a distant, interested look on her face and finally put a hand out to halt the, "No checks" speech, "What station is this? Can you turn it up? Is this _the news_?"

**Meanwhile(er?) in Dalton, Georgia**

The guys in _Roy & Al's Custom_ went about their work slowly, glued to the tiny vintage 1980s portable television that sat on a high shelf underneath the neon-lit Budweiser clock. Merl had stopped work completely and was leaning against a white Ford pick-up with an open beer in his hand.

Daryl was busy helping one of the other guys clean up a spill, but even he stopped what he was doing to listen to the broadcast.

"So, they just want us to believe that the vampires came out of nowhere, and that if we ignore them," The Conservative pundit mimed dusting the problem off of his hands, "It will dealt with. But by who? Teenage girls, says the Secretary of State! So that raises other questions. One, are they working for free? Two, if they are getting paid, where is that money coming from? Is that what this new tax hike is paying for?"

With great dramatics, the anchor switched cameras and leaned on his desk, "Okay, look, America. I've never seen a vampire before, have you? No? That's because before this administration they were, what? Fairy tales, that's right. But with strangle regulation of the medical profession and increasingly lax border control, who's to say what kind of monsters now reside in our own country?"

The men stood around, blankly staring at the screen until Merle picked up a rag and tossed it at Daryl with a cheesy grin, "There it is, little B. They gone and found you're _Chupacabra_."

With a mad little grunt Daryl tried to swat the rag away but ended up getting hit in the face. He grabbed the scrap and tossed it aside rather than at his brother, " _Shut the fuck up_."

* * *

**Present Day, Greene Farm**

Despite the warnings, Shane stayed where he was, tense and ready with his eyes focused on the charging demon.

Hershel slowly raised his shotgun but lowered it again as he watched Daryl quietly push through the group, crossbow aimed. It only took a moment for Spike to make it to Shane and go in for the bite, only to lean back and catch a bolt in mid air in his bare hand. He glanced in the direction the arrow came from, then made his mind up as Daryl took aim again. Spike grabbed Shane by the shoulders and hauled the man in front of him to use as a human shield, just in time for the second bolt to catch Shane's shoulder. Shane grabbed for the bolt but Spike hefted him up and threw him at the rest of his group, then made a break for it - over the fence and towards the woods.

Faith hopped the fence and was after Spike before anyone could stop her and Buffy watched her go, urged to go after them, but turned and hurried back to the group. By this time they had picked themselves up off the ground, and Rick with Andrea's help had managed to get Shane to lie back and lie still. Buffy moved her way into the crowd and crouched down next to Rick, looking over the wound with the bolt still inside it, "It's not bad, he won't bleed out but we have to get that out of him."

"I think we can handle it." Rick responded angrily, paying more attention to Buffy than to Shane, "You just go get your van packed and clear out."

Buffy stood slowly, finally having had enough, "I'm not leaving without them." her words were quiet but firm.

Rick rose to his feet, refusing to budge, "None of this would have happened if your people had been honest with us from the beginning."

"None of this would have happened if _your people_ weren't so raring for a fight." Buffy countered.

"This is not a negotiation!" Rick hissed his words under his breath. He motioned to the woods with his gun, "Your _friend_ tried to kill Shane! He's a vampire! That's the kinda thing you tell someone from the get go!"

"Are you really going to tell me that Shane is innocent here?" Buffy raised her brows and folded her arms, feigning amusement, "Because he's been so welcoming until now?"

"Enough!" Andrea yelled as best as she could in a whisper, "We don't have time for this!"

Lori sighed, trying to help Shane up, "She's right, we have to get this out of his shoulder and someone has to go out there and find Spike and Faith." Rick looked irritated by the thought and Lori continued, "The faster we find them, the faster they can leave." She sighed again, wearily, "Can somebody help me, please?"


	19. Into the Woods

**The Timber**

Faith made it to an allowance in the woods that was small but, thankfully, bathed in that same blue-white moonlight that had lit up the farm lawn well enough to see which initial direction Spike had taken. The light had led her this far but she had lost his trail almost half a mile back and was now looking for any sign of movement or crumpled foliage that might point the way.

The woods were quiet and bone dry. The tall grass that reached out in patches here and there managed to scratch and itch any exposed skin as Faith made her way through the clearing. In the distance she saw a walker shambling towards something or other, and closer, another moaning and trying to get out of a patch of brambles and huge tree limbs that had fallen during a recent thunder storm, but slaying wasn't the task at hand so she didn't pay them much attention.

Between the distant throaty growls of the walkers and the rustle of whatever sort of varmints were skittering around in the mummified brush, the only clear sound Faith could make out came from her own breathing and her heart softly thumping in her eardrums.

"Well, _look_ who they sent to fetch the big, bad monster?" Spike's pissy, snarky voice boomed suddenly in Faith's ears. It cut through the silence quickly, and took her by enough surprise to make her whip around to look behind her, expecting to see a jealous, whiney vampire standing there with a silly sneer on his face. Instead she came face to face with clouds of floating dust and forest yuck fogging up the beams of otherwise empty moonlight and the far off walker she'd seen earlier was now slowly making his way towards her thanks to the sound of Spike's voice. He continued, "Careful, now. _Someone_ might think you care."

Frustrated, Faith sighed and rubbed at her forehead with the palm of her hand, " _Perfect_ ," She grumbled to herself, "It's **disembodied douche boat** time." She cast another glance around, looking a little worn out, "Man, I hate it when you play game show host. Before you start telling me some long-winded story about all the ways I'm hurting your baby feelings, how about we skip the stupid part and just head back? Don't exactly have much night left and I got this _weird feeling_ that we gotta clear out after the stunt you pulled back there."

" _Right_. I suppose we'll just skip back to Sheriff Rage-o-hol, hand in hand. **All** is forgiven, and _nobody_ gets staked through the heart." Spike muttered sarcastically, "Not in the cards."

"So, _what_?" The irritated note in Faith's voice was threatening to overtake her forced calm and she started to slowly walk through the small glade, her eyes still searching the forest around her for the source of Spike's voice, "You're just gonna sit out here and rot? Nobody likes you, everybody hates you, so it's Can-o-Worms time? What the hell is _up_ with you, man? You been a little _bitch_ since Colorado."

"What's _up_ with me?" Spike's laugh was humorless and bitter, "Well, isn't that _rich_ coming from you..."

"And _here we go_." She grunted her words and continued to look for Spike, using his voice as a guide, "So glad I got shacked up with Obsessive Guy. You're gonna give me fucking _angina_ , I hope you know that and the guilt kicks your ass." she sighed, trying for funny to lighten the mood but Spike wasn't having any of it.

"Is it _that_ hard for you to admit?" Spike continued his hissy somewhere in the dark, "We had something, and you felt it. But _oh no, not Faith_. Don't want to sully your precious reputation as lady Jack Sparrow, I suppose." He began to use his fake Angel voice for effect, "Faith Lehane needs **no** man. Faith Lehane is a _warrior princess_."

By this point Faith was fuming, what little resolve she'd had earlier was being eaten away with every word he spoke. Every accusation. Every stupid little chuckle. She hadn't noticed that, at some point, she had slid a stake out of the gun holster she'd taken to wearing beneath her jacket and was now thumping the rounded end against her palm in a nervous twitch, "You sure you wanna do this now?"

"Now's all we've got, Love."

**Meanwhile: The Greene Farm**

Andrea, Rick, Buffy and Hershel circled the hood of a pickup, leaning on it as if they were leaning on a table during a board meeting. They all looked over a map with Hershel holding a flashlight at ear height, "If he crossed the river we're not likely to find him. Not tonight."

A sigh escaped Buffy and she swept her bangs off of her forehead with her hand, her free hand holding the grip of a sword whose blade lay flat over her shoulder, "I wish there were another choice, but if I don't find him tonight I might not find him at all and I am not leaving without them."

"Guess she'll drag his ass back," Daryl's voice caused the small group to un-huddle as he approached the truck, the long bow Faith had left in his camp had been pulled over his head and now rested across his chest diagonally like a seat belt, the quiver was strapped to his back and he held his crossbow over his shoulder, "But somebody ought to get out there after em."

Rick nodded at Daryl's advice and looked around the group, "Buffy, Daryl, you two take the river. I'll take Hershel and head along that trail we scouted the other day, see if they're making their way back."

"And me?" Andrea asked, folding up the map. "I'm not going out there by myself."

"I need you here." Rick responded in a low voice, knowing how Andrea would react to the news, "In case they come back before we do."

Andrea put her hands on her hips and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, "Uh-uh. No. _No way_ am I sitting it out when there's a vampire on the loose."

"Andrea, we don't have time to argue this. We already have too many people in the field, and I need to leave someone behind who can shoot." Rick tried to reason with her but Hershel stepped in and put his hand on Rick's shoulder.

"Take Andrea with you, I still have Shane to tend to. That wound is cleaned and stitched up. It isn't bad but I don't want to wander too far off until I know he's in the clear. If anything happens, it's better if I'm here to deal with it myself."

Rick listened to Hershel's excuse and started to nod, then began re-directing the parties, "Alright. Buffy, you're with me. Daryl, you and Andrea take the river. We can spare an hour or two, but don't push it. If you don't have one of them by first light, head on back."

The various parties nodded to each other then began walking towards the fence where the fight had occurred. Buffy tried to check her watch by moonlight and Rick busied himself with staring at the tree line for any movement.

Andrea sighed as they walked and mumbled, "A vampire. Did anyone see _that_ one coming?"

"Tsst..." Daryl snort-grunted with a little sneer, "Knew he was a demon yesterday. Faith told me right off."

Andrea and Rick exchanged looks and Andrea smirked a little behind Daryl's back, responding with sarcasm, "You two, uh. Talk a lot, do you?"

Daryl turned his head slightly to give Andrea a bitchy look and his sneer became more pronounced,. He paused and turned back to the rest of the group, specifically to Andrea, "What you think we been doing all this time?"

"Honestly?" Andrea tried to contain herself but still managed to look amused and a bit accusingly back at him.

It took several seconds for Daryl to understand the look, then took a glance at the others and saw the same look staring back at him. He huffed, trying to force himself not to turn beet red in front of everyone and turned back around to lead the group through the gate and towards the trees. He aimed his crossbow at nothing, giving himself an excuse to shrug one shoulder up and put imaginary distance between himself and everyone else, grumbling under his breath, "Buncha dirty motherfuckers..."

**Meanwhile: The Timber**

"You wanna talk hugs and feelings so much? _Fine_." Faith turned slowly to scan the area behind her for Spike, but only spied the lone walker trudging towards her in the distance, "Come out and talk to me."

A moment passed and Spike piped up, "And have you shove that splinter through my chest for my trouble? Not _bloody_ likely."

"Yeah, well I'm not gonna keep chatting it up with the Deadies," She felt her molars start to grind against each other and her tone slipped away from sarcastic, becoming low and angry, "You wanna do the whole girly couples counseling thing? You don't get to pull a coward on this one. You gotta show up." The forest was suddenly quiet and Faith knew that Spike was weighing his options. She noticed a soft rustling. Not in front of her, or behind her, so much as _above_ her. Faith's brows slowly raised as she realized where Spike had been hiding and she suddenly asked, "Are you up a freaking _tree_?"

Spike paused against the trunk of the tree he'd been standing in, trying to keep his feet still on the base of the branch, miming, " _ **Balls**_..." He couldn't think of a way out that wouldn't make him look silly, so he tried to laugh it off but it came out mirthless, "How... thick do you think..." but he sighed loudly and gave it up halfway, "Sod it." He climbed to a low branch and swung out of the tree to his feet on the ground below and landed in such a way that made it necessary to straighten up. He gave Faith an expectant look, shoving his hands into the pockets of his duster, "Happy?"

"Yeah." She spoke with a sneer and voice laden with sarcasm, "You just fill my life with sunshine. _**Talk**_."

"I'm not exactly a closed book." He spoke with a sigh, trying to pick leaves out of his hair.

"You were hiding _up a tree_."

Spike shrugged and mussed his hair with his hands, trying to get all of the dust and leaves at once, "Seemed like a good idea at the time. But if you'd like a chat, I'm all ears."

Faith took a sudden step towards Spike, folding her arms, "Are you really gonna act like I'm the bitch who wanted to play sharing time? _You_ wanted to talk. Now you got one last shot to start yapping before I slap the blond outta your hair."

Spike took Faith's advance with a half step back in retreat and threw his hands up, 'give-in' style, "Okay, alright, white flag..." When Faith didn't back down or back up he sighed and forced himself to continue, "You're... you're _in my head_..."

"Well," She responded with an impatient grunt, "I could always crack your limey skull open and pull myself out if it's bugging you so much."

"I'm serious." Spike sighed and turned to pace away a few steps, "I know you're angry, and I won't insult you by apologizing..."

" _Try_." Her angry response cut Spike off. She watched him pause and turn around to look at her with features slightly contorted by confusion, as if her request was puzzling and out of place. It dawned on her that he had no idea what part of this was his fault and it infuriated her. She forced a painful half grin and shook her head, pushing the stake back into it's holster, " _Oh_ , no. _Fuck you_ ," She started to angrily gesture at Spike as if he were the camera in a rap video, "You do **not** get to lay this at _my_ doorstep. You left _me_ , remember? Just can't stand that I moved the hell on with my life."

One of Spike's bushy, scarred eyebrows bent up with amusement and he gingerly touched the bridge of his nose with his fingertip, brushing tree dust off of his face, "I wouldn't call _Sam Winchester_ 'moving on', Pet..."

 


End file.
